


Bang Bang From the Closet Walls

by oneswhonever



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Atheist Character, Boys Being Boys, Bullying, Cheating, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Developing Relationship, Drug Abuse, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Gay, First Time, Graphic Description, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hospitalization, Illnesses, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Internalized Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Major Illness, Molestation, Moral Ambiguity, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Out of Character, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Recreational Drug Use, Religious Conflict, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexuality Crisis, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2018-11-05 13:09:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11014092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneswhonever/pseuds/oneswhonever
Summary: High school has left Jack McLoughlin cynical - due to bad friends, homophobic bullies, and a failing love life involving crushing on the straightest human beings alive. His bully since the beginning of time, Mark Fischbach, is dealing with confusing changes to his personal life - and he is also convinced that bad things happen solely because he gets out of bed in the morning.Felix Kjellberg has an addiction that affects most decision making. Between that and being heavily swayed by his faith, he's at a crossroads when it comes to personal morals. Ken Morrison is fresh out of the hospital, and without his best friend to rely on, finds himself entirely lost.Dan Howell is uncomfortable when the world isn't shining lights on him. He wants to be the center of attention, and takes personal offense when he is not. Phil Lester is busy, too busy for a social life, but that doesn't stop him from putting everything aside to help others.





	1. Jack

Lakehurst High, located in sunny California, was separated into cliques. This was typical of any American high school, but Jack didn't want to see the day that another school could rival the shit hole he attended. 

The first clique was the cheerleaders. They were exactly what you would expect them to be - peppy and beautiful. The head cheerleader, deservedly so, was Marzia Bisognin. Outside of his typical crowd, she was one of the only people at Lakehurst that Jack could stand. Beyond just desiring the popularity, Marzia was actually talented, and worked hard for everything she got. Jack admired her persistence - the girl participated in cheer, yes, but also student council and the school yearbook. She was brilliant, and Jack knew this firsthand. The only thing he didn't care for about her was her boyfriend. Riding on her coattails were Signe Hansen and Amy Nelson. He didn't know much about Amy, other than the fact that she was involved with the most arrogant prick known to man. 

Signe, on the other hand, was the equivalent of the she-devil. Jack was enticed by her beauty at first. He thought she was the most incredible woman, and they had plenty of fun together while it lasted. She had been his date to homecoming during their Sophomore year, which had led to other interesting activities - some of which made Jack sick to his stomach to think about presently. All was beautiful...

Until Jack realized he was gay. Incredibly gay. He cited this as the reason for their breakup, and in her anger, Signe outed him to the whole of the school. It was uncalled for, unwarranted - and completely ruined Jack's reputation. He was never the most popular guy, of course, but any credibility he had was thrown out the window. He hated to think that he attended a school where people shamed you for being gay, but he did lose the majority of his friends when he was shoved out of the closet. And he  _hated_ Signe for it.

Next on the totem pole - the jocks. This gang was spearheaded by Mark Fischbach, and as far as Jack was concerned, Mark was a fucking virus. Mark was the one person he could hate more than Signe, and rightfully so. Ever since they were young, Mark had been picking on him - and for no real reason. Jack thought it had a lot to do with his stature - the fact that he had always been smaller and less fit than the other boys his age. He thought it was stupid. Clearly Mark had his own issues going on in life, so Jack never gave him the satisfaction of knowing how badly some of his comments hurt. 

When Jack was outed, Mark had done the equivalent of winning the lottery - with oodles of jokes pouring out of his pea sized brain. 

Mark's lapdogs were Bob Musykens, Wade Barnes, PJ Liguori, and Chris Kendall. And though these four traveled in a tightly knit pack, Mark's best friend was the head of the endearing clique, who Jack liked to call the "preps." Named appropriately, considering they were all rich boys who were fed privileges on silver spoons. 

Felix Kjellberg was said best friend. He was Christian - and if that was it, Jack could get behind this. But Felix had very traditional morals, and spewed homophobia like a fucking septic tank. He was Marzia's boyfriend, and the two had been together since Freshman year, which was surprising - seeing how the two couldn't be any further apart as far as morals and values went. Felix was hateful towards those who were different, whereas Marzia embraced it. Jack found it to be a pity that she stayed with a person such as Felix, when she could do so much better with her life. 

To say that Jack wasn't fond of Felix would be an understatement. And he wasn't a fan of his friends, either. Ken Morrison was just as poisonous as Felix. He wasn't a bully, but he was certainly a bystander - and in Jack's opinion, that was nearly as bad. Ken was the type to stand behind Felix and jeer during an argument or confrontation, rather than take any action. 

Then, there was Cry. Cry wasn't his real name, but Jack didn't know what it actually was. No one, not even the teachers, used his real name. To be blunt, he didn't care enough to find out what his name was. He did, however, care that Cry was probably the person who turned him gay. 

He was unfairly gorgeous, and you didn't really have to be gay to agree. He had wild brown hair, striking blue eyes, and the figure of a god - with sharp facial features and a jaw that could probably cut glass. Before Jack was out of the closet, he and Cry had been friends. They were lab partners in chemistry, and frequently were at one another's houses. Jack hadn't guessed back then that he had a crush, of all things, on his friend. That would just be ridiculous, right? 

When he admitted his sexuality to himself, and to the world, he had his realization. It dawned on him why the pit of his stomach got warm around Cry. Why he always wanted to talk to him and just hear how his day was going. He was lovesick, he realized, and it made him physically ill to think about it. Mostly because, if there was one person out of his reach, it was probably Cry. Not just because he was the most beautiful person ever, inside and out, but because he wasn't gay. 

Because he was friends with fucking Felix Kjellberg. 

Cry stopped talking to him after Jack was outed. Whenever Jack said hi, Cry would smile and wave at him, but never uttered a word. Jack knew he was uncomfortable - most people were. It was heartbreaking, yes, but he saw it coming. The blow wasn't quite as bad as he had initially anticipated. 

The final clique was Jack and his friends - the bottom of the barrel, honestly. There was himself, gay as could be, and with no real personality beyond sadness and life destroying depression. He didn't believe himself to have any real qualities, or any real talents. His self esteem had greatly diminished since he had been outed - but even prior to that, Jack hadn't considered himself to be anything special. He liked pizza and video games, and that was really about it. 

His best friend since the beginning of time was Phil Lester - who was the embodiment of sunshine and positivity. Phil was the head of the school's LGBT+ Club, which, contrary to a lot of harassment that happened around the school, was actually quite popular. Jack assumed that this was because of Phil himself, who was endearing and personable. Phil was also student council president - the election was merely a popularity contest, but Jack regained a bit of faith in the school when an openly gay person became president. He felt that maybe there was only a fraction of people that were intolerant assholes, and the rest could see past the fact that Phil was gay, and see him as just Phil.

Phil's love interest, and the third member of their awkward triad, was Daniel Howell. Dan was brooding, but in a very endearing way. He made the all-black look very stylish, and the ladies drooled over him. Dan was the vice president of the student council, voted in because he was actually very well liked. And, Dan wasn't gay - much to Phil's dismay. Jack found this disappointing as well, because Dan was pretty much the complete package. He could play piano brilliantly, and in spite of putting himself down on a daily basis, was incredibly intelligent. For a brief while, Jack had played with the idea of being in love with Dan.

But, that was ridiculous. Love was a path that Jack would never let himself fall down ever again.

He was ready and willing for his senior year to be a redemption - to make things normal and drama-free for once in his life. 


	2. Jack

A drama-free year was apparently impossible to have. Upon his first step into his Environmental Science class (first period, his only elective), he spotted one of the hell spawns - PJ Liguori. Why on earth he decided to take an advanced placement course was far beyond Jack, but nonetheless, he was displeased. 

As he walked past the empty table that PJ sat at, he expressed his disdain, "I think you're in the wrong place, pal."

PJ's eyes narrowed into a particularly icy glare, which may as well have been his permanent expression. "I think  _you_ are. You wouldn't know anything about aspirations, but you don't get into a school like Stanford by taking bird courses."

"Stanford?" Jack snorted, not believing his ears. If all jocks were as brainless as Mark, none of them would be getting into college. "Yeah, right."

"I have a 4.0 and I'll undoubtedly get a scholarship for football. Now scram."

Jack mustered one final dirty look before heading to his unassigned seat near the back of the room. He couldn't believe what he had heard. He had to wonder why, if PJ was so smart, he  _voluntarily_ hung out with the likes of Mark Fischbach. It made no sense. 

In the door next, thankfully, was Dan. A look of confusion crossed his features and he stared down PJ as he passed. He didn't utter a word to him; he swore to himself that he would never breathe a word to Mark and his clique even if his life depended on it. Instead, he stalked to the back of the room, and flopped down in the seat right next to Jack, his bag hitting the floor with a hard thud.

"I smell sweaty jock," Dan murmured, causing Jack to smirk. "How long do you reckon it'll be before he drops the course? I'll give him a month, tops."

Jack snorted, his voice significantly louder than Dan's when he spoke. "Try two weeks. This shit will kill him."

Evidently, Jack's voice was louder than he had even anticipated. That was a bad habit that he had - speaking too loudly for his own good. He had always been told that he was loud and obnoxious. But it often got him into trouble. PJ whipped around and his eyes (beautiful as they were) narrowed into an icy glare. Clearly he had overheard what Jack had said.

"I'll kill  _you_ , fag," hissed PJ, and Jack's eyes widened in response. "Why's it so hard for you lot to just mind your own damn business?"

"Oh please," Jack snorted loudly, a glare over his own falling on his face. "As if you practice what you preach. You and all your dumbass friends are fucking leeches. How does it feel to get it right back?"

"When's the last time I've ever said anything to you, McLoughlin? Just because I'm friends with Mark you think I'm a bad person by default. You don't know me - and you don't really know Mark, either. So shut the fuck up, and grow up."

For a moment, Jack was stunned into silence, and so was Dan. For a brief moment, Jack considered the possibility that PJ could be right. Maybe associating him with Mark for all this time, without reason to believe he was a bad person, was stupid. He hardly even spoke with PJ - prior to this incident, he seemed to exist just to be an add-on to Mark's crew.

Then again - he did just call Jack a fag. No matter what stupid justification he thought he could give, it just wasn't okay. Jack was gay, had grown up with gay friends, and he didn't stand for it. 

"You act like you're hot shit," Jack sneered, and PJ rolled his eyes. "You're not any better than the rest of us."

"What are you lot doing with your lives, then? Not shit."

 

***

 

"What PJ said to you is awful, but seriously - he may not be as bad as you think."

Marzia was in Jack's next class of the day, Advanced Placement Government, and it was a pleasant surprise, to say the least. She was looking gorgeous as ever this year, having cut a considerable amount of hair from her head. She looked fresh and youthful, and it was a breath of fresh air seeing her around. It was especially a relief that she still found it socially acceptable to be caught talking to him. She even agreed to sit with him.

"So, you know him, then?" Jack questioned, and Marzia raised a brow in inquiry. "Like...he hangs out with Mark and stuff...so I'm surprised you know shit about him."

"Through Felix?" she prompts, and Jack solemnly nods his head. Of course. He forgot about the fact that they were a couple, and it was a begrudging reminder, to say the least. Felix was horrible - maybe even worse than Mark, in some respects. Misery loves company, Jack reckoned. "And I don't know him that well, actually. He's a pretty quiet guy...likes to keep to himself. But I can see where you'd be frustrated with him. He's got a very... _dry_ sense of humor."

"Sense of humor is what they're calling it these days?" Jack inquired, and Marzia actually cracked a smile. "He sure likes to boast. And shove his accomplishments down people's throats."

Marzia bit her lip, tearing the tender skin. It was a nervous habit, Jack had noticed. "Well, it's really not my place to say but...PJ really has been through a lot in his life and he works for the things he has. Don't judge a book by their cover, Jack. You don't like it when people do it to you, and the guy does have feelings."

Jack considered this, and considered it heavily. 

Maybe Marzia was right. 


	3. Jack

Just when Jack thought his day couldn't get any worse, he was met by a horrifically familiar face as he walked into his Economics class - the person he last anticipated, which somehow made it worse. 

Cry. 

Jack blinked his eyes several times, trying to process the sight before him. Sometimes seeing him after a long period of time was like a total shock to the system. Almost every time, Jack felt the wind escape from his lungs. Every year Cry's body filled out more, his face became sharper, and he just got more and more gorgeous. Jack was certain that he could never be as physically attracted to another human being as he was to Cry.

And of course he had noticed Jack was staring. Why wouldn't he?

"Sean," Cry called, a smile pulling up at the corners of his lips. Jack wanted to wince at the sound of his birth name, but he couldn't muster it. Smiling wasn't something Cry did frequently. The rare sight was one to be cherished. "Come sit next to me."

Jack paused, but inched forward ever so slightly, his eyes transfixed on Cry's - as deep and blue as could be. "Uhhhh...okay? If you're sure...we haven't talked in awhile."

When the smile never left Cry's face, Jack took this as a green light to come closer. When he was sure that this wasn't some sort of stupid joke, he happily took the seat next to him, dropping his bag to the floor and slipping out his notebook for the class (all classes color coordinated, this one was red). He had suspicions in his mind, feeling that any second Cry would lean over and push him right off the seat and onto the floor. That being said, other than association with Felix, Jack didn't have much of a reason to suspect Cry of any wrongdoings. 

He had to work on that. He had to stop seeing the bad side of every situation, and he had to be rational.

"I know," Cry replied easily, scratching his red pen repeatedly over his own notebook. Jack couldn't see what he was doing, but he was going in the same pattern, over and over again. "And I'm sorry about that, Sean. I actually really liked talking to you and I'm hoping we can just...start over?"

Jack blinked his eyes heavily, his chest suddenly tight. "Um, I mean, of course. But...Felix?"

The expression on Cry's face suddenly morphed into one of disgust, which was considerably uncommon for him. "I could care less about what Felix thinks. We aren't really friends anymore."

Jack stared at him for a moment, mouth agape. Felix and Mark were best friends, the closest friends you could be, but that definitely didn't negate how close Felix and Cry were - having been friends and knowing each other for _years_. Jack didn't like Felix, he never had, but he had never anticipated a day where he and Cry would no longer associate with one another. 

It wasn't his business, he knew that, but he asked anyways. "What happened?"

"It's probably not a very interesting story. I can't really...the important part is that I realized how shitty he is, and that he treats everyone like dirt. Including his friends. I just didn't want to be apart of that. I want to make  _real_ friends."

Jack smiled a slight, but it was quick to falter. "I mean, good for you, but I'm really sorry to hear that. Are you and Ken still friends? You and Mark? Everyone else?"

For the most part, Jack was unconcerned with who Cry chose to associate with. It was entirely his own choice, and it appeared that he was level-headed enough to make his own decisions. No matter what he chose, Jack was just happy that they were on speaking terms once again. It refilled him with confidence for whatever the year would end up bringing to them.

"I don't think me and Mark have ever been friends," stated Cry, stoic. He then turned a little somber. "Ken is actually in the hospital. It's a long and shitty story, but, we're still friends I guess. It's just been...I dunno. Awkward."

Jack thought twice about it, but he reached over and placed a hand on Cry's arm, in what he hoped was comfort. He felt better when the brunette didn't pull away. He didn't want to overstep by asking about Ken, so he decided to tuck it in the back of his mind. If Cry wanted to talk about it, he would. Jack didn't want to ruin what he hoped was the beginning of their new friendship. Besides that, he hardly knew Ken. 

Cry continued, "I don't know about the other guys. PJ is cool, and I guess Chris is, too. I probably won't be talking to Wade and Bob, though. They're Mark's friends. I never...I don't know. Mark and I don't hate each other or anything, but now that I'm not friends with Felix, there's really no reason for me to talk to him. He probably doesn't care for me now, anyways. Felix probably turned him against me."

Jack frowned, not moving his hand. "What makes you say that?"

"It's a messed up story," Cry said, finally setting his pen down. He still didn't raise his head to even glance in Jack's direction. Jack didn't take it personally - he was sure there was plenty on Cry's mind. "Felix and I got into a pretty bad fight when Ken was admitted. I don't wanna say particulars or anything...but we didn't really see eye to eye on the situation. Felix was being a douche about everything, as always, and Mark always takes his side. It's just...expected."

Jack bit his lip, and moved his hand back to his side. He didn't know what to say to Cry, given that comforting people wasn't necessarily his forte. He wasn't sure that Cry even wanted the comfort. Maybe he just wanted to get it off of his chest, and Jack was more than willing to listen. He found that just listening to Cry was a breath of fresh air. Having gone so long without talking to him wasn't easy - they were never  _that_ close of friends, but Jack had hated to think that Cry was so ignorant that he wouldn't want to be friends with a gay guy. 

He was happy to realize that that probably was no longer the case. He didn't know why the sudden change in heart, but he reckoned it probably had something to do with Felix, and the fact that the two were no longer friends. 

Jack was actually kind of relieved. 

 

***

 

"You should really watch what you're getting yourself into, Jack," was Phil's grand advice as they entered the cafeteria together, surpassing the massive lunch line to head towards the back corner, where they had eaten together the past few years. "I know you used to really like him and all that, but just remember the crowd he used to hang around."

Jack was shocked at this unprecedented reaction. "Um...have you seen my friend Phil? Kind, never judges a book by it's cover? Always says that you shouldn't stereotype people based upon who they hang out with?"

Phil frowned, shouldering past crowds of people, all hollering and laughing. "Okay, I get it. All I'm saying is that you should remember how he treated you. And how his  _friends_ continue to treat us. He knows how they act, yet does nothing about it. Being a bystander is nearly as bad as being a bully, you know."

"Cry is not a bystander, Phil. He was just telling me that he's not even friends with that lot anymore. He and Felix had a falling out, he never liked Mark...those two are the problem, not their friends."

"...Have you seen my friend Jack? The one who used to swear off all allies of Mark Fischbach and Felix Kjellberg because  _who you hang out with speaks MULTITUDES about who you are as person_?"

Jack swatted Phil's shoulder before circling the table to sit at the other side, leaving the space in the middle for Dan, whenever he decided to grace them with his presence. "You're so funny I almost forgot to laugh. Work on that mockery, too. Didn't even sound Irish."

Phil smiled, and Jack smiled right back.

He had a good feeling about their year. 


	4. Felix

"I haven't seen Ken at all today. I thought he was gonna be out in time for the school year. That's what his mom told me. I don't presume you've been visiting him at all, or have any updates."

Felix Kjellberg had a nasty look on his face at even the mere  _mention_ of that name. Mark sure had a lot of nerve to even begin to ask about it. As  _if_ Felix had been visiting the hospital - what good would it do, anyhow? It's not like his presence was going to make anything any better. Ken had made that crystal clear. Just as clear as the fact that he didn't want to see Felix ever again. 

These were all facts that Mark already had, so why he had to bring it up was far beyond Felix. Why he chose to bring it up on the first day of school (aka, Felix's worst nightmare literally ever) was even more unfathomable. 

"No, I have not," he replied bluntly, picking at the skin around his fingernails. He wasn't immersed in lunch at all. They all ate outside at the very same table they had since they were fifteen years old. Felix was just rejoicing in the knowledge that this was their last year, and then it would all be over. However, with the way the summer had kicked off, he had a feeling of dread weighing heavily in the pit of his stomach. He knew it was going to be different. He had been anticipating that much. "You were there when he told me to go to hell, Mark."

"Felix, he didn't mean it like that," Mark murmured, and Felix had half the mind to smack that sympathetic look right off his face. He didn't know when Mark began to become such a softy, but he absolutely hated it. They had more fun together when Mark was pushing people over and laughing at their misfortune. That's not to say he was suddenly everybody's best friend, but he was certainly acting abnormally. He knew why, but he certainly didn't like it. "You know he's in a really bad place right now, and you weren't being particularly nice when you visited."

Felix's eyes narrowed into a hard, icy glare. "When am I ever nice, Mark?"

"Well, all I'm saying is that it probably wouldn't have killed you to be a little more understanding. He was your best friend and for you to act that way...come on, man. It was a little uncalled for."

"Ken is not my best friend," Felix corrected, moving to cross his arms across his chest - still paying no attention to the food in front of him. "You are. But I don't necessarily appreciate the way you've been acting recently. I know, you found him, and that must have been tragic. I bleed for you, Mark." His voice was practically dripping with sarcasm at this point. Not like Mark wasn't used to it. "But seriously, not everyone is gonna fly off the handle like that. Not everyone is made of fucking glass."

"I get your point, Felix, but that doesn't make it valid," Mark said, snark seeping into his own tone. Felix could tell that he had struck a nerve. "And you really didn't have to bring that up, thanks."

"Now you know how it feels, pal."

Their conversation was disrupted by additions to the table. PJ Liguori and Chris Kendall were always attached at the hip. They went everywhere together, and did everything together. Many people were convinced that the two were in a relationship, but that really couldn't be any farther from the truth. They were just really close friends, and had been since they were bopping around in diapers. They lived next to each other, and had since before they were conceived - and their parents were also very close friends; the type to plan family vacations together. Felix had met them both in freshmen year, when the schools were integrated. They lived on the opposite side of town, so he was pretty certain that he wouldn't have met them otherwise. 

In some ways, he was glad that they had met. Felix never had a lot of friends growing up besides Mark, Ken, and Cry. Now that Mark and Cry had both turned their heads, Felix was down two friends. 

Not that he cared. Fuck those guys. 

"I have Jack in one of my classes," PJ announced as he immediately began digging into his lunch. You didn't have to be gay to admit that PJ was an attractive person - who could make shoving a sandwich into his mouth and chewing loudly actually attractive. Felix would never like a guy (ever) but he could admit that he had a good looking group of friends. "Dan, too. What a couple of fags."

Felix nodded his head in agreement, finally digging his fork into the abomination that the school passed off as mashed potatoes. "No fucking kidding, man. Can you believe those lot? Think they're hot shit..."

He was met by a slap to the back of his head. He turned around angrily to see the person responsible, but it was his girlfriend, and he immediately relaxed back into his seat. No matter how angry he was, yelling at Marzia was not going to do him any good. He loved her, and didn't want to give her any reason to leave him (which he supposed he could work on, but he  _really_ didn't want to).

"Language, PJ," she scolded, plopping down next to Felix and pressing into his side comfortably. "Dan isn't gay. And even if he was, there's nothing wrong with that."

"Gays go to hell," said Felix as a harsh reminder. Marzia looked at him with a look that resembled disappointment. "It's just the truth. Don't say anything if you don't want me to express my opinions. You know what they are already."

"Jack is actually very sweet," Marzia quipped, and Felix nearly gagged. No matter how much he loved his girlfriend, sometimes he was inclined to believe that she was absolutely delusional. She didn't see anything wrong with alternative lifestyles, even though they were a sin. Felix's faith controlled his morals, but he was completely okay with that fact. "Seriously, Fe. I think you would really like him if you got to know him."

"I'm sure he's a great person, babe, but he's got some warped fucking thinking," said Felix, before looking at Mark - who was clearly uncomfortable with the current discussion. Felix didn't know what was getting into him, but he didn't care for it one bit. "For all I care, he could have the personality of a brick, and I still wouldn't like him. Anyone with that kind of lifestyle is no friend of mine. It has nothing to do with who you are as a person. Ken was pretty blatant proof of that, I'd say."

Marzia frowned - her lips sticking out in a glossy, pink pout. "And you don't see anything wrong with your way of thinking? Nothing at all?"

"Nope," Felix confirmed, though his voice was muffled by the bits of turkey sandwich in his mouth. "Nothing at all. At least I'm not a sinner."

"Well, I'm sure The Bible also says to be tolerant and to love people in spite of their differences," Chris suddenly interjected, and Felix arched an eyebrow up at him. "Not saying I condone it, obviously. Jack's a fucking freak regardless. But Felix, come on. Ken was your friend and he tried to  _kill himself._ How would you feel if he actually had. Surely you don't think that, just because he's gay, he deserves to die?"

"I never said that," Felix said in his own defense. He wrapped his arm tighter around Marzia's shoulders, and she never moved away. Felix was inclined to believe that he could do anything, say anything, and she wouldn't leave him. "I don't think he deserved to die. I just don't want him in  _my_ life anymore. So that's that."

And sure enough, that was that. 


	5. Mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for pretty detailed recollection of a suicide attempt.

"It just sucks because, like, I'm gonna miss so much. Teachers can't crack down on me for it, but...getting that shit caught up with what else I'll have to be doing? It's gonna be a nightmare."

Mark Fischbach had never been particularly fond of hospitals. There was something undeniably eerie about how sterile and bland they all were. He had been in a room with his dying father, holding his hand as he was confined to a bed with IV's jammed in him, and all he had been able to think about was how he would die within those four walls and never see the real world ever again. The atmosphere was horrendous. In the period of time leading up to his death, Mark had seen many other deaths within the hospitals - people being wheeled out in creaky stretchers with sheets covering their faces, nurses with stricken looks. It never got any easier. It just made the impending reality much harder to deal with.

The mental hospital was almost worse. No one was  _actually_ dying, but no one looked particularly happy - which was to be expected, Mark supposed. Additionally, it was like the entire place was built for toddlers. There were no hard floors, no blunt objects to hurt yourself on. Patients weren't allowed belts or shoelaces (which was fair, Mark thought), and all doors were locked. The only way to leave the so-called "meeting room" was to have a nurse unlock the door with a key card. In some ways, Mark could understand the crackdown on safety, but part of him didn't necessarily think that most of the patients would off themselves the second they got a chance. He thought that most of them would probably behave just fine if it meant getting even a sliver of freedom back. 

He never had suicidal thoughts. He didn't know what it was like to be in such a fragile state of mind that you would consider killing yourself as means to make it "better." He never understood the people who thought that way. He never claimed to. 

Nonetheless, he didn't feel like Ken belonged in a room filled with people who were nothing like him. He didn't think Ken fit in with the people who had scars lining their arms, or the people who were so frail that it looked like they could crumble to dust if they were touched. Ken actually looked like the healthiest person in the whole facility, sans staff. His skin was still tan and glowing, and his eyes still had some signs of livelihood. He didn't look like the type of person to try and take their life.

Mark knew his logic was silly. He just never expected something of this degree out of one of his friends. He never expected to be the person to find one of his closest friends hanging from a rope, choking on his own saliva. The ring of purple around his neck stayed for _days_ whilst he was still in the hospital being treated. It was during this time that Mark found it the hardest to visit. He couldn't stop thinking about what might've happened if he hadn't been there - he dreamed about finding a corpse, or worse yet, Ken's mom finding her dead son. There was a part of Mark that thought it was probably for the better that  _she_ hadn't been the one to find him. 

Countless nurses and doctors told Mark that he did the right thing. That it was good that he had began CPR right away, got some of the color to come back to Ken's face - got his heart beating. The ambulance had arrived quickly. All that Mark could do was wait, even though the paramedics filled him with a sense of hope; said that he had done good, that there were good signs. Speeding after the police escort, all the way to the emergency room on the opposite side of town, all Mark could think of was the whitening of Ken's eyes, of the red spots blossoming all over his cheeks. 

He lived, of course he did. But that didn't mean it was easy to see him on a daily basis. Visitation was always an hour long, between six and seven, and Mark barely managed to make it after football practice (he was captain of the team this year, so skipping wasn't necessarily an option). He couldn't give up on Ken, though. Not like the others had. 

Cry visited him a grand total of three times; once in the hospital, and twice in the mental ward. The final time he tried to visit in when Ken suffered his meltdown - he threw a chair at Felix, hit him right in the face, and told him to burn in hell before being carted straight out of the room. That whole mess caused Cry to have a completely full-blown panic attack, having to be calmed down by staff. In the parking lot, he shoved Felix to the ground (a mural of bruises similar to the ones now on his face also littered his back), and told him that he was a shitty friend, before storming off. He didn't visit Ken after that. Mark thought that it wasn't fair, to stop visiting just because of something that Felix did, but he wouldn't say that. He let it be, because there were simply more important things to be dealt with.

Suffice to say, Felix didn't visit after that, either. He visited twice. Once in the hospital the night that Ken had been admitted, to tell him that suicide is selfish - that he needed to think about his friends, his family, and about how they'd feel. That had been the first of Ken's panic attacks, rampantly apologizing to Felix as if he had to justify his actions. Ken's mom didn't let Felix visit for awhile, and made sure that the hospital staff knew that he was not welcome.

He came once whilst Ken was in the mental hospital, when the brunette had requested his friend's presences. He revealed everything in the span of about thirty minutes, explaing just about everything he could about why he did what he did. Felix was the one to break the silence when no one else had anything to say.

_"You're not gay, Ken," Felix said, malice dripping from his tone. Everyone knew where this was heading. Mark put his hand on Felix's back, gingerly - a warning. "Don't touch me, man." Hand immediately removed, but still raised - trying to tell him to just **stop.** "It was that fag who touched you. Doesn't mean you're bloody gay. Don't be ridiculous."_

_"You're overstepping," Chris said, a frown plastered on his face. He was ignored._

_"You're missing the point," Ken said, his voice a weak croak - he had been close to tears the whole time, and it was looking as though they might spill. "I...that's not why I thought that, Felix. It's irrelevant to being gay it's just...I wanted you guys to know everything."_

_Cry spoke for the first time that whole day. "No one blames you for anything, Ken. I'm glad you shared. We don't think any differently of you...for being...gay, or for that...other thing."_

_"Speak for yourself," said Felix, icy as ever, standing from his chair hastily - almost knocking it over in the process. "You know exactly how I feel, Ken. Don't call."_

No one even wanted Felix to visit after that. Ken wasn't bothered that he wouldn't come around - he didn't want Felix in his life anymore; he had made this point loud and clear. Mark was appalled that the person he called his best friend was capable of spewing such hatred. Mark was never a saint, he never claimed to be, but Felix had overstepped. To exit the life of one of your friends who was already in a bad state of mind...it was unthinkable. Mark had done bad things in his life, had spewed plenty of homophobia over the years, but for some reason, didn't care when Ken came out to all of them.

Because Ken was his friend. Because being gay didn't change who he was, and it definitely didn't change the fact that he was in need of companionship.

"Well," Mark said, his fingers drumming on the table. He avoided looking Ken in the eye as he spoke - which he often did, because he was afraid that they would turn white again. "Last time I talked to your mom she said you would be out before school started...you don't think it's gonna be that much longer, do you?"

Ken smiled, but he definitely wasn't happy. "I don't know anymore. Their evaluation of me wasn't exactly...great. They really took that whole mess with Felix into account and they...think I'm bipolar. Or some shit."

Mark's head snapped up, interested. "What? That's ridiculous. He provoked you."

"Of course he did. They know that, I tell them that all the time," Ken clarified, his teeth digging into the tender skin of his lower lip, turning it bright red. Mark had to look away again - he wouldn't see the color red the same way on his friend ever again. "But they think the way I handled it was...unnecessary. Which I guess is fair, but that was two weeks ago. Isn't it better to be angry than to be...suicidal?"

Mark didn't have an answer. He avoided the question entirely. "I think you've been making good progress. I'm sure you'll be out in no time. And hey, don't worry about coming back. I've got your back, man. You know I do."

Ken arched an eyebrow, and a dirty look crossed over his normally smooth features. "No you don't. You know you don't. Felix doesn't want anything to do with me, and you always take his side."

"Not this time, man. Not with this."


	6. Dan/Phil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very Phan-centric chapter. Thanks for all the support!

"I'd like to say that this has actually been a pretty successful day. Not nearly as many casualties as I had expected."

"Not as many?" Dan mused from his spot, perched on top of the table where student council meetings were normally held. The room, used solely as an office, was currently unoccupied besides the two men, seeing as it was well past regular school hours. Phil had a lot of work to get done that he didn't prefer to work on at home, because of the noise levels. Dan had nothing better to do than hang around with him. They were expecting Jack to join them, but their friend had yet to show up. "My day was great. What are your woes?"

"It's nothing," said Phil in response, paging through a government textbook solemnly (who assigned an entire chapter on the first day of school?). "Nothing other than the usual, that is. I have no time for my own woes."

"Jack?"

"Oh yeah."

Dan sighed, stretching out his long limbs so that he was practically laying on the table, scooting his backpack over to use it as a pillow. He knew he should be working too, he had a handful of assignments that weren't going to get done this way, but he was unmotivated. His brain had yet to adapt to the fact that school was demanding his attention. He didn't take school nearly as serious as Phil, anyhow. He wasn't as smart as Phil, either.

"I have Mark in math," Dan said, though his words were slightly muffled - he was laying on his side, his cheek being squished into the fabric of his bag. "And like, even though I almost gagged seeing him...he's not been so bad so far? Like, he definitely glared at me, but he didn't say anything. Maybe he's...turning over a new leaf."

Phil scoffed, "Please. Jack was saying the very same thing about Cry at lunch. Acts like he's in love with the guy, or something. I think you guys are both delusional, frankly."

"Is it so hard to believe that some people can change for the better?" Dan asked, but Phil didn't seem to have an answer for this - he looked at Dan before going back to his book, scrawling down notes. The way he worked was sometimes fascinating. He could go through things quickly, with precision, but somehow remained a mess. Everything about Phil just screamed  _anxiety._ Dan pitied him, sometimes. He didn't know how to slow down. "Anyways, I think you're right. PJ was still being a dick, so I think it's safe to say that the lot of them will be the same."

"That's not any sort of surprise," Phil murmured, closing his textbook and capping his pen. Dan thought he was done, and was ready to bolt up and for the door, until Phil slipped a math worksheet out of his binder. He dug around in his backpack (which was already bulging, papers getting lodged in the zipper) before withdrawing a mechanical pencil. Dan groaned. "Hey, this is the last of it. We have to wait for Jack, anyways."

Dan rolled his eyes, but didn't move a muscle. "We don't have to wait for him. We said five and it's... _five thirty._ "

"Waiting for him will not kill us," Phil protested, already working away. He unlocked his phone, which was on silent during homework time, and pulled up the calculator. "He's probably held up. He's always late."

"Well, it wouldn't kill  _you_ to take a break," Dan murmured in response, a hint of huskiness seeping into his voice. Phil recognized this tone, and even though his heart began to skip beats, he still didn't look at the brunette. "Come on, Phil. You're always working. This is our senior year...don't you want to have at least a little bit of fun?"

"Fun has to be earned, Dan. If you don't work for it, it's meaningless," Phil replied, trying to keep his voice as even as possible. He could feel Dan's gaze, and could practically see the smirk he was sure was there. He knew that if he looked, it would be all over. "We can have plenty of fun later in the week...the weekend. Right now, this has to get done."

"You don't actually want to do any of that, though," Dan said, finally sitting up. He swung his legs over the side of the table, dangling them off the edge next to where Phil was sat. "I think I have an idea of what you would rather be doing."

_Don't look, Phil._

_Don't look._

"Look at me, Phil," Dan murmured, leaning over and grabbing the older boy by the chin, cocking his head so that he could look into his eyes. Phil's eyes were his one weakness in life - he had the most beautiful blue irises. "Just one kiss won't kill you, you know. You deserve a little break."

Phil rolled his eyes, but his heart was pounding - and no one in their right mind could deny Dan Howell of anything. So he gave in, and leaned in close, allowing their lips to brush. Kissing Dan was a lot different than kissing other people. It was like every single brush of the lips was a first kiss all over again - the spark was always there, there was always warmth in the pit of Phil's stomach.

He always had to wonder if Dan felt it, too.

He intended for it to be just what Dan had suggested - one kiss. It was never like that. There was always more than one kiss, and right now was no exception. Dan would always pull him in closer. Putting his hand at the base of Phil's neck, drawing him in close; he knew how to make him melt, and how to make him  _want_ to keep him coming back for more.

He would never go farther than kissing in public. On several occasions Dan had suggested public sex, or a hand job even, but Phil wasn't about that. He would never risk getting caught in such a compromising situation, and Dan could understand at least that much. After all, Dan wasn't out of the closet, and being caught in  _any_ situation was absolutely out of the question for them.

"Hey guys! Sorry I was running late, I... _whoa._ "

Dan and Phil hadn't noticed it when the door swung open, and hadn't noticed Jack's presence until the smaller boy had began speaking. They couldn't have broken apart any faster, though. Dan was completely red in the face, Phil was ready to shrivel up and die and Jack...was somehow smiling as though he'd won the lottery.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," said the green-haired boy, a dirty smirk playing up on the corners of his lips. "Wow. I didn't realize you two were an...item. I'll knock next time."

"You weren't...interrupting," Dan quickly stammered, climbing down from the table, evidently flustered. "And for that matter, we're not an item, it's not like that." The way he was so quick to try and defend their actions actually made Phil feel somehow worse about their situation. He knew that they weren't an item, but sometimes it got too easy to pretend that things were different - that they weren't sneaking around and making out in closets, following a strict  _no dating for fear of weirdness_ policy. "Jack, stop laughing. It's not funny."

Jack seemed confused, but he was still chuckling - and it made Phil want to bolt right out of the room.  _Of course,_ even Jack found the prospect of them dating to be ridiculous. Who wouldn't? Dan was too good for Phil - too smart, too handsome, too  _everything that Phil wasn't._

"I don't think it's funny," Jack protested, the smile never leaving his face. "I think you guys would be a fantastic couple. It's just...you're kissing in the student council office, acting like it's no big deal? Whatever label you wanna put on  _this,_ it's cool by me. Just wish I would've got some kind of memo."

Phil also wanted some kind of memo, because even he was unsure of what exactly  _this_ was.


	7. Jack

"I just find it weird. You're not really the  _friends with benefits_ type. I'm surprised you agreed to any of that."

"For the last time, it's not like that. We haven't even...gone all the way. It's been pretty casual as far as all the sex stuff goes. You need a hobby. You don't need to obsess over Dan and I all the time."

With the week having come to an exhausting close, Jack was hosting a bit of a sleepover at his house. On a lazy Friday night in a relatively small town, there wasn't much of anything to get up to. Whilst waiting for Dan to show up, Phil and Jack were immersed in Buffy reruns (Phil's choice, of course; he brought his box set over, and intended to make Jack sit through the entirety of the first season for the millionth time). The brunette never had any reason for being late, it's just who he was as a person. 

Jack hadn't let this particular topic go since he found his best friends playing tonsil hockey. He was a strong supporter of the two dating, but Phil made it pretty clear that this circumstance wasn't in the cards, as far as Dan was concerned. Of course, they never talked about it, which is where their first mistake was. Jack was a firm believer that, if they had a discussion, a lot of their current issues would not exist. 

"I don't need to know the ins and outs of your and Dan's relationship, be it sexual or not," Jack murmured, cradling a bowl of popcorn on top of the exposed part of his stomach, where his shirt was beginning to ride up. Phil was stretched out next to him, pressed directly into his side. The two were close, had always been, so the physical stuff wasn't weird. Jack almost enjoyed the fact that they could be this close (literally and figuratively) to one another without any discomfort. "Besides that, I do have a hobby. It lies in a secret romance."

Phil rolled his eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "If you find it necessary to hide your mystery beau from us, it's evident that you've got something to hide."

"He's not even a beau!" Jack protested, throwing a piece of popcorn at Phil and watching it ricochet off his friend's nose. "Not yet, anyhow. You'd call me an idiot if I told you who it was. You'll know eventually...if I ever even get the nerve to talk to him about it."

His mystery  _beau_ was Cry. The two had been getting on very well over the past several days, and had even gone out to lunch together a few times. He was a much more endearing person when he was far away from the parasites he used to call friends. Still, Dan and Phil most definitely didn't think so (probably), so their friendship had to remain in the dark for awhile. Especially because Jack was beginning to develop some pretty intense feelings, and Dan being the weasel that he is, would clock it right away. Jack would never live it down. 

Besides that, even if Cry had assured Jack over and over that he wasn't homophobic, that didn't necessarily mean that  _he_ was gay. Or even bi, for that matter - or anything other than straight. Jack wasn't about to make any sort of assumptions about his friend's sexuality, and he didn't find it okay to ask about. Especially seeing as they only recently began talking. It wasn't Jack's intention to out anyone who wasn't ready to be outed, having been in that very situation before. 

"Beyond that," Jack carried on, seeing as Phil was silent. "He's incredible. If you two got to know him, I'm sure you would love him. There's absolutely nothing wrong with him. He's perfect."

"You're laying this on a bit thick, Jack. You make it sound like you're in love with this guy, or something. It sounds like whatever you've got going on probably needs to be slowed down."

Phil's concerns definitely weren't unfounded. Jack was fully capable of falling in love with anybody. The second someone acted decently to him, Jack was already envisioning their futures together. He was aware that it was a big issue, and he really worked on it. The situation with Cry was a lot different, in a lot of ways. 

"It's as slow as it could be, I assure you," Jack said, albeit a little glumly. He wondered if he would ever have the guts to talk to Cry about how he felt, but that was doubtful. Jack had a hard time making friends, and he wasn't about to forsake a friendship for a relationship that may or may not work out. Relationships just made things complicated, more often than not. He thought of Signe, briefly, and shuddered. "We're just friends. Literally, no further advances have even been suggested. This is important to me, and I intend to take it slow."

Phil looked proud as he clapped a hand on Jack's back. "Good for you, mate. I'm glad."

Jack smiled, and in that moment, the door swung open - knob hitting the wall particularly hard. This was typical of a Dan entrance, and sure enough, the brunette strolled through the doorway not a second later, swinging a brown paper bag on his arm casually. He looked...raw. His cheeks were red, his curly hair totally unkempt. When Dan went through periods of depression, it wasn't necessarily uncommon for him to look like this. It made Jack worry.

"Greetings, friends," Dan chirped, though his words were heavy and slurred together. It struck Jack in an instant that Dan was drunk. "Sorry m'late. Traffic was just a bitch."

Seeing as it was currently nine at night, Jack doubted it, but he kept that thought to himself. "Dan, what the hell? Did you actually drive here drunk?"

He dared to glance at Phil, and was upset when he did. The taller lad's entire face had disappointment written all over it, and his blue eyes were full to the brim with tears. Jack had to guess, then, that this wasn't an uncommon occurrence. 

"Of course I did," Dan rolled his eyes, plopping the bag down hard on the floor - causing several clanks from within. Jack stared at the bag as though he would suddenly be able to see through it. He had a sneaking suspicion that Dan brought alcohol with him. "Wasn't any other way for me to get here, right?" He sat down on the bed, towards the end, next to Phil's legs. "You guys will never guess who I saw when I picked this shit up - Felix! Little Christian boy was buying  _coke,_ can you believe that? He saw me, and told me he'd knock my block off. What a fucking riot."

 _Cocaine._ Jack swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat, and rubbed the back of his neck harshly. He didn't suspect Felix of being into anything heavy like that. It made him wonder if Cry ever partook. 

"We agreed on no more drinking," said Phil quietly, his arms moving to cross over his chest. Dan rolled his eyes, and flopped over directly on top of the taller boy. "Dan, get off. I wasn't fucking joking around."

Jack's eyes widened when he heard that word escape Phil's mouth, and especially directed at Dan. "Guys, come on, settle down."

"You both need to settle down," Dan said, his hand gripping Phil's thigh tightly, fingers digging into tender skin. Phil gasped hard before yanking his leg away, practically kicking Dan off of him as he got to his feet. "Come on, doll. Calm down. I brought enough for the three of us, and it might do ya some good."

Phil grabbed his bag and promptly swung it over his shoulder. "Dan, I said I wasn't going to do anything with you anymore, so knock it off  _now._ Call me when you're fucking sober."

With that, he disappeared, leaving Jack more confused than ever. He looked at Dan, and the brunette just smiled. 

"Looks like it's just you and me, Jackaboy. You in?"


	8. Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential triggering warning in this chapter for past self-harm, and drinking also happens. 
> 
> Enjoy - the slowest of burns continues. xx

"Wow, seriously? You and  _Cry?_ No offense Jack, but uh...don't you think he's kind of out of your league? He's popular as hell."

"He is not out of my league, clearly," Jack said sourly, toying with the glass bottle in his hands. He tapped the glass repeatedly, a nervous habit. He could tell Dan was irritated, but the brunette wasn't speaking. He was laying there, sprawled out on Jack's bed, his breathing considerably labored. He was getting tired and irritable. "He's been talking to me, hasn't he? I have nothing to lose."

"Cry is like...something else," Dan sighed out, his thoughts clearly turning incomprehensible. He always got this way when he was drinking. He liked to think that he knew everything, but then when he tried to speak, he just ended up stumbling over himself. Jack stopped taking his advice a long time ago. Dan was smart, but he lost seemingly all of his brain cells when he hit the bottle. Jack didn't like to drink with him, but there was high pressure in these situations. It was clear that Dan thought lowly of him when he wouldn't partake in anything. "His friends are all assholes. Felix threw you in a dumpster once."

"They are not even friends anymore," groaned Jack, growing tired of having to explain himself and his actions. Everyone liked to think that they knew more than he did - and knew what he should be doing with his life, and who he should be associating with. They were wrong. Jack was tired of listening to everyone. He had always been more of a follower than a leader, and it was something he was working to change about himself. This was a new year, and it was his goal to be more assertive. "Why do you care who I talk to?"

Dan rolled his eyes and flipped over onto his stomach, his hands perched under his chin as he looked at Jack with disapproving eyes. "Because I'm looking out for you. It's my job."

"I'm not a baby, Dan. I can look out for myself."

Cry had been a bystander in the past, that much Jack couldn't deny. But he had never done anything to offend Jack or his friends in anyway, so the Irishman wasn't sure why everyone had such a negative perception of him. It was totally unwarranted, he thought. He used to think that who you hung out with determined who you were as a person, but in his few days of talking to and  _actually_ getting to know Cry, he was able to recognize that that wasn't necessarily the case. 

"Clearly you can't, seeing as you're making all these shitty decisions," Dan said bluntly, snatching the bottle from Jack's hands. Jack glared, but watched as Dan took a swig and a hard swallow of the coconut flavored rum. He gagged, and Jack cringed, thinking the brunette was going to throw up. He didn't, but a stream of liquid dribbled past his soft pink lips, and down his chin. He wiped it away, and sighed, capping the bottle. "I hate that you and Phil can't fucking see that all I'm trying to do is look out for both of you. I'm trying to prevent both of you from making stupid decisions that you'll end up regretting. You guys never let me. Do you think I want to see you get hurt, Jack?"

Jack's eyebrows furrowed together, and his frown was becoming a permanent fixture to his otherwise smooth features. "I'm not going to get hurt, Dan. And, for that matter, neither is Phil. He doesn't ever do anything. If anything, he's more mature than  _you._ You don't think wasting away with all this fucking alcohol is a bad decision? You don't think it's going to hurt you?"

Phil had always been the mature and responsible one of their little trio. He was grounded. He was stable. He sometimes got overworked, but he always knew how to fix his own problems. He was school president for a reason, after all. He had a plan for his life, he steered clear of substances for the most part, and he paid attention to the people he surrounded himself with. He had a good head on his shoulders and, in all honesty, was pretty much Dan's polar opposite. 

Dan was unstable, and there was no better way of saying that. He was unpredictable. He did everything without thinking of the consequences that might come with his actions. He was a genius - smart and incredibly creative, a very skilled artist. He truly did have good intentions. However, unlike Phil, he let every little thing in his life get to his head. A "glass half-empty" kind of guy. He would let stupid, simple things totally ruin his day. Jack knew he had a history of self-harm, as well. He was, however, incredibly good at disguising his hidden habit. He always had small burns that he would blame on the toaster oven, or his straightening iron. Nowadays, Jack felt stupid and guilty for ever falling for these excuses. Up until recently, Phil did consistent body checks on Dan, making sure nothing was amiss. He stopped when Dan started therapy, after having not found anything for a few consistent months. Jack had a hunch that all this drinking and impulsive behavior was somehow a substitute for actually hurting himself, but he kept this opinion to himself. 

"I truly don't see a problem with wanting to have a good time," Dan finally said, after a moment of prolonged silence. He did, however, set the bottle on the floor. Jack hoped he was done for the night. He reached for the bottle, and had a mouthful of his own. He hated the way it tasted - the mix of coconut and alcohol was unpleasant, to say the least - but the half-empty bottle was all Dan brought that night. "And maybe don't act like you know Phil, because you don't, okay? I do. He's nowhere near as perfect as you like to think he is. I'm his best friend. I would know."

Jack swallowed hard, choked, and scowled. "Knock it off, Dan. I don't know why I even bother trying to reason with you sometimes."

Dan sat up, and crossed his arms over his chest. "You just don't like to admit it when you're wrong, Jack. You're wrong about Cry, and you're wrong about Phil. You don't know better than me."

"I never said I do," Jack protested, becoming increasingly unnerved. He hated it when Dan got abrasive like this. He wished Phil hadn't left - if he was still here, one simple touch to the shoulder would stop all the tangents. "Dan, what the hell is going on with you? You never used to act like this. I hate it, and I'm sure Phil does, too."

Dan shook his head. "You don't know anything. You'll never understand what it's like to see the person you love fucking shut down and...it's fucking stupid. I try so damn hard to protect the both of you, and it never fucking works."

Dan was turning misty-eyed, and although Jack has seen him cry many times before, this felt entirely new. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Earlier in the night, Phil was telling him that nothing was going on between him and Dan, and now Dan was saying that he was in love. Jack hated to think that his friends had some weird unrequited love thing happening - that was a surefire way to complicate everything, and just when Jack had felt like his life was finally getting back on track. Additionally, he had worries about just what Dan was saying about Phil. The three of them had been close friends for years, and with the knowledge that he was probably being kept out of the loop, Jack's stomach was in knots. 

"It's not your job to protect either one of us," Jack reiterated, but his voice was much softer this time. He got up and sat next to Dan on the bed, placing a hesitant hand on the brunette's shoulder. "What do you need? I'm here for you."

Dan looked up, and directly into Jack's eyes as he spoke. "I need someone to care about me. To love me the way that I love you guys."

Jack's chest was beginning to hurt as he listened to his friend talk. It was pretty damn rare that they ever got quite this deep into conversations such as these. The three of them had been through a lot in the past few years, but serious conversations didn't really exist in their friend group. They knew how to support each other, they knew how to talk if they wanted to - it's just that they rarely ever did. 

"We do love you, Dan," Jack dropped his voice down to a whisper, which was about unheard of from him. "That will  _never_ change. I'm sorry for being that way earlier but...I do appreciate that you're looking out for us. I really do. You're cared about - I promise you are."

Dan looked deep into Jack's eyes, and without any hesitation, leaned forward and captured the boy's lips in a kiss. 


	9. Dan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty detailed description of self-harm and blood in this chapter.

**(To: Phil) 11:36 - Dan: Please tell me you're coming today.**

Dan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying his hardest to focus on the board. All he could hear was Mark and his friends chatting in the back corner, and Mr. Lancaster doing absolutely nothing about it. Dan's foot was beginning to tap, repeatedly, against the tile flooring. He hadn't heard from his friends all day long, and a feeling of nausea was beginning to burn in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen.

**(To: Phil) 11:37 - Dan: Please don't freeze me out like this. I know we got into a fight but I'm really starting to lose it here.**

How in the world was one meant to focus on quadratic equations when the world was ending? Dan simply didn't get it. He would rather cut off his own ears than hear the cackles of Ethan Nestor and Mark Fischbach ever again. They cared so little about what was going on that it was actually infuriating. Dan could care less about the lesson at the moment, but he had more valid reasons than simply joking around. The sky was falling, Dan's world was in absolute peril, and nobody even cared. It sucked that the world would stop for no man.

**(To: Jack) 11:39 - Dan: Give me some peace of mind, at least. You don't have to forgive me. I'm just...sitting in math about ready to vomit and I need someone to talk to.**

If Dan could erase one moment from his long list of mistakes, kissing Jack McLoughlin would probably be that one. It was a big, drunk mistake that Dan had regretted the second he came to his senses. He left the house right away, drove himself home and sobbed the entire night away before falling into a drunken slumber. Now, he had expected to wake up to an influx of concerned text messages from his friends, but no such luck. That was his first hint that Jack was probably pissed at him.

He wasn't attracted to Jack, and he could never be - not in a million years. He knew exactly how he felt, he was in total control of his emotions. Jack was just a really good friend, and now that said friendship was on the line, Dan felt the need to punch something. He didn't need math. He needed to run away and regain control of the situation - he needed to give Jack a proper apology and tell Phil how he felt. That was the only way he was going to recover from this mess that he had put himself into. 

**(To: Jack) 11:42 - Dan: Meet me in the third floor bathroom in five and I will explain everything. No funny business I promise.**

Dan stood, and gathered his bag, gaining a snide comment from his favorite person in the class. "Where ya runnin' off to, Danny? Thought you'd gain some sense and stop skipping. Your grades could use it."

There was snickering, and Dan's teeth ground together dangerously. Ethan Nestor had been his math tutor since they were freshman - which was instantly crushed when Dan and Phil won president and co-president, which Ethan and his lapdog Tyler were up for. Since then, Ethan had been holding a grudge. Normally, Dan would have no problem engaging in a verbal battle, but he presently had more important things to deal with. 

"To the bathroom, that okay with you, honey?" he teased, causing more snickering. He took the hall pass from the hook by the door, and disappeared without even a second glance back into the room. He didn't care if he got in trouble today. Sorting things out with his friends was of utmost importance. 

He managed to dodge any hall monitors or staff, and made it to the bathroom safely, finding that it was empty. He sighed in relief, withdrawing his phone from his pocket and dropping his bag to the floor with a hard thud. His back hit the wall, and he slid down the wall so that he was sitting flat on the floor. He kept his phone open, refreshing the messaging app every so often. None of his messages had even been read. 

Ten minutes passed, and Dan's hands were getting clammy. 

**(To: Jack) 11:55 - Dan: Come on dude. I'm panicking here.**

**(To: Phil) 11:55 - Dan: Have you heard from Jack at all today? He doesn't normally skip but he's not answering my texts and I'm getting kinda worried.**

He leaned back, allowing the back of his head to smack the wall rather hard. He was ready to throw his phone across the room at this point. He felt as though his throat was closing up, and the bile was beginning to rise. He was worried, ultimately, that his friends hated him. Surely that was the only reason that they would be ignoring all of his messages.

**(To: Dan) 12:01 - Jack: wtf. i just woke up.**

Dan's heart began to slow back down to a normal pace. Surely if Jack was talking to him, he couldn't be  _too_ mad. It also meant he wasn't hurt. Or dead.

**(To: Dan) 12:02 - Jack: and ya know i don't actually feel like talking to you right now. your mood swings are giving me whip lash. i'm sure you're fine. deep breaths. i'll talk to you after i shower.**

For a moment, all Dan could do was stare at his phone wordlessly. Jack was never the type to just blow him off like that, and especially when Dan was in a state of panic. On any normal day Jack would stay up with him until the wee hours of the morning just to calm him down and make sure he didn't do anything rash. The way he was acting was totally unwarranted. 

**(To: Jack) 12:03 - Dan: Are you kidding me right now? I'm losing my mind here. You can't just blow me off.**

As he felt his heart begin to throb in his chest, Dan grabbed his backpack and felt around in the front pouch for his car keys. He withdrew them, and the lanyard that they were attached to. His keys were nothing more than his car key, his house key, and a little key chain that Phil got him at Disneyland - a picture of them, together, on California Screamin'. He took one look at their excited, smiling faces - before snapping the chain and throwing the picture across the room, seeing it slide across the floor and into a stall. 

Feeling the blood thunder through his ears, Dan removed the house key from his key ring, watching as it hit the light just so. The key was small, and it used to be a gold color, but the years of wear and tear made it appear more silver nowadays. It was dull, and Dan ran his thumb over the ridges, feeling it scrape his skin lightly. It would never work the way a razor would, but with Phil constantly checking his backpack for anything that could cause trouble, he very well couldn't bring on of those to school. This would just have to do - it had before. 

He rolled up his sleeve, feeling his heart pound particularly hard as he saw all the scars from years past. Most of them you could hardly see anymore, but some of them would never disappear. He remembered Phil crying when he found out about this habit for the first time, and chuckled bitterly at the memory. The days when his friends actually gave a fuck about him was a feeling memory. 

He closed his eyes, and dug the ridged side into his arm, pulling across - hard and fast. The key never did quite what he needed it to, but he found that the more he dug in, the more effective it was. He felt a familiar stinging as his skin tore apart, and he allowed his eyes to flutter open, looking down at what he did. To his dismay, there was very little blood - just a raised bump with red prickles coming to the surface, surrounded by torn up skin. Briefly, he ran his finger over the new laceration, shivering when he felt the ever so familiar tingling sensation. He gritted his teeth, and dragged the key across his arm again, in the same spot - digging it in deeper. He did it again, and again - his vision becoming slightly hazy as tears pooled in his eyes. When they spilled over, he blinked his eyes clear, to see the blood dribbling down his arm - off his skin, onto his jeans, and onto the floor. 

He dropped the bloodied key onto the floor, and sat against the wall for a moment. He was unable to feel remorse for what he had done. At one point, he had promised Phil that he would at least make an effort to stop hurting himself. Clearly, however, Phil didn't even care about him enough to respond to his texts, so why did he have to care about the promise?

As the blood continued to drip onto the tile flooring, Dan was growing tired of the noise. He stood, being briefly hit with a wave of vertigo that made him grip at the sinks for support. He blinked a few times before letting go, instead leaning against the sink at the waist. He turned on the faucet and stuck his arm underneath the cold water - watching it turn pink and swirl into the drain. He stared, nearly mesmerized. 

He couldn't believe what he had just done. Panic was beginning to sink in the very pit of his stomach, which is when he  _really_ started to feel ill. If Phil hadn't hated him before, surely he was going to hate him  _now._

"Lancaster wants you back in class."

Consciously, Dan grabbed at his wrist with his opposite hand, covering up the wound. His eyes darted up and narrowed, seeing Mark standing in the doorway - leaning against it and staring at him, expecting. 

"And he sent you?" Dan scoffed, though his voice came out wavier than he had hoped. He was beginning to feel considerably unsteady, and falling apart in the boy's bathroom in front of a mortal enemy was definitely an unfavorable circumstance. Mark nodded his head. "Well, feel free to leave."

Mark stared at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed together, before he took a few steps towards Dan. "Hey, are you okay? What happened to your arm?"

Dan recoiled as much as he could whilst still keeping his arm in the sink, and scowled. "What does it matter to you? Just... _go away._ "

Mark frowned, and wrestled Dan's arms apart forcefully. He saw the blood dripping down Dan's arm, and Dan was surprised that it hadn't stopped flowing yet. He tried not to look at the blood, however, and looked at Mark instead - seeing how pale the shorter boy's face was becoming, as his eyes were seemingly transfixed on Dan's laceration. 

"Jesus, what did you do?" Mark finally uttered, and even  _his_ voice was unsteady. Dan yanked his arm away. "I know you don't like me, Dan, but that looks really bad. You should go to the nurse."

"As if you care about what I do," Dan replied, unable to keep the snark out of his voice in spite of the anxiety bubbling up. Mark's presence was only making the situation more stressful. "Just go back to class."

"Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I want you to get hurt."

Dan was speechless as he watched Mark pump out some paper towels from the dispenser. He grabbed Dan's arm again, but this time, the brunette allowed him. He wrapped his arm up in the wad of paper towels, and held them down firmly. 

"Keep pressure on these, and hold your arm above your heart. You need to go to the nurse. Can you walk fine by yourself?"

Still rendered into complete silence by Mark's actions, Dan raised the injury above his heart as he was instructed. Mark removed his grip, and Dan put pressure on the wound himself. He took a few wobbly steps, and came to the conclusion that he could. 

"Yeah..." he finally murmured, looking at Mark with misty eyes - the younger boy ready to follow. Dan gestured towards his bag, and the keys that he had left on the floor. "Can you get those, please?" He hated asking anything of Mark, and especially in a polite regard, but he wasn't about to leave his stuff in the bathroom to get stolen. 

Mark complied, scooping up Dan's bag and swinging it over his shoulder. He grabbed the lanyard, and cringed before grabbing the bloody key by the cleanest part he could. He used a paper towel to wipe it away before sliding it back onto Dan's key ring. Then, he followed the brunette out of the bathroom, on his toes and ready to stabilize him if he ended up falling or tripping. 

Dan didn't know why he bothered. 


	10. Mark

**(To: Jack) 6:01 pm - Mark: Hey. I know you weren't in school today but I really think you should check in with Dan.**

"I'm surprised you're actually here on time," Ken murmured, twiddling his thumbs. He looked so nervous and uncomfortable for some reason, and Mark had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach just looking at him. "Normally you'd be rushing from football. What gives? Get out early?"

"I didn't go," Mark said, plain as day. Due to the day's earlier events, he hadn't felt much like going to practice. He told his coach that he was feeling unwell, which wasn't necessarily a lie, and left one of the co-captains in charge. He was never one to skip, so he knew he wouldn't get a whole ton of flack for missing one day. "There was a lot of shit going down today and I wasn't feeling up to it. I'd much rather be here with you, anyways."

Ken smiled. "Well, I'm flattered. I never tire of your company. Still, not very captain-like to skip practice, is it? What happened to leading by example?"

**(To: Mark) 6:02 pm - Jack: who tf is this??**

**(To: Jack) 6:02 pm - Mark: Sorry, it's Mark.**

He knew that Jack probably didn't care to here from him, but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn, honestly. Though Dan Howell certainly wasn't a friend of Mark's, he was still concerned about the boy. When they spoke in the bathroom, and even when Mark dropped him off at the nurse's, the brunette was evidently unhinged. He didn't want to leave him alone, but it definitely was not his place to get involved. He hadn't seen Phil or Jack in school the entirety of the day, so he tracked Cry down and received Jack's phone number from him (it was clear that he didn't necessarily want to give it out, but the look on Mark's face said it all: this was important).

"Who are you so anxious to get a hold of?" Ken questioned, and Mark's head snapped up, an apologetic look crossing his features. "Just curious. Usually you're never quite this glued to your phone?"

Mark sighed, locking his phone and slipping it into his hoodie's pocket. "Uh, Jack, actually." Ken looked at him, an eyebrow raising in inquisition. "I know you didn't ask but...you know Dan? It's probably not my place to say but he, uh, hurt himself in the washroom today. I came in from class and I think he must've cut himself. He was bleeding everywhere."

Ken frowned. "Mark, don't tell me you just left the poor kid there."

Mark's face fell. "Of course not. I would never. I don't like him but I wouldn't just leave him there. I took him to the nurse's office. I knew he didn't want me there, so I left then, but...I don't know. I'm worried. I don't want him to do anything..."

Ken nodded solemnly, but didn't speak. Nothing had to be said. His phone buzzed, and he quickly slid it out.

**(To: Mark) 6:04 pm - Jack: how did you even get my number??**

Of course that would be his response.

**(To: Jack) 6:04 pm - Mark: Cry gave it to me. He didn't want to but I made him.**

**(To: Jack) 6:05 pm - Mark: That's really not what's important right now, though. You should really check in on Dan. He was really unhinged when I saw him earlier...you're his friend and I'm not.**

The last thing he needed was inquisition from fucking Jack McLoughlin as to why he was concerned about Dan's well-being. He couldn't answer that question honestly - not to some punk that he hardly knew. The truth was that he was worried about Dan hurting himself any further. He had been bleeding a lot, and Mark hated to think that he could have bled out. 

(That was a stretch, actually. The reasonable part of his brain knew that the cut was nowhere deep enough for that to have been a possibility. Still, he didn't want to think about walking in a corpse, even if that was unreasonable. He had enough brushes with death to last a lifetime, he figured. Why was it always him?)

"You did the right thing, Mark," Ken said, suddenly breaking the uncomfortable silence - he must have noticed how grim Mark was becoming, and how the frown was permanently plastered on his face. "Is Jack going to check in on him?"

Mark sighed, toying with his phone and refreshing the messenger app. Nothing. "I don't know. You would think he'd be at least a little bit concerned, but all he's been asking about is how I got his number."

"Can you blame him? No offense but...you've been kind of horrible in the past."

"How could I possibly be offended?" Mark asked dryly, but he immediately rid himself of that tone. He could be as short with Jack as he wanted, but there was no reason to take that kind of aggression out on his friend. "I'm sorry. You're right." He sighed, and ran a hand through his tousled black hair. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve the Felix Kjellberg curse."

Ken frowned, notably uncomfortable. "Felix is your friend."

"You know what? I doubt that sometimes," Mark admitted, and his stomach was curling. He couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth. "I mean...most of the time, yeah. I know the guy like the back of my hand, and it's usually great and he's great to me, but...I don't know, man. The way he treats other people, it makes me think about the way  _I_ treat other people. I never used to give it a second thought, but in light of, you know, I just...I'm questioning a lot of shit."

"If it helps anything, I think your heart is in the right place, Mark," Ken commented, and avoided all eye contact as he spoke. Mark knew that _Felix_ was not a preferred topic, in any context. "I don't think Felix even has one. You're trying to make things better, whereas he sees nothing wrong with his actions."

**(To: Mark) 6:10 pm - Jack: thanks for the heads up.**

Mark sighed, biting into the tender skin of his lower lip. He slid his phone across the table to show Ken. "What does that even mean? What if he just doesn't care?"

"Dan's his friend. I'm sure he cares. Stop thinking about it, dude. You're going to drive yourself crazy if you keep dwelling on this shit."

Dwelling was all Mark could do right now, it seemed. 


	11. Felix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a caution, this chapter focuses very heavily on drug use/addiction. Read with your own caution if that's not something you're comfortable with, please!

Felix figured that it was damn near impossible to describe taking cocaine to someone who has never done it before. 

Undoubtedly, the reason most people shoot up for the first time is because of the euphoria and bliss associated with the drug. His first experience had not been what he had been expecting. He remembered feeling anxious, paranoid. He wasn't hungry, during or after. He could hardly stand to hear people talking without wanting to punch their teeth clear down their throat, and whenever someone turned on a light in the otherwise darkened room, his brain throbbed relentlessly against his skull. He couldn't sleep, even when the room was silent and pitch black. He could feel Mark's arm brush against his several times, creating something that was nearly an electric shock, sending currents throughout his veins and up and down his spine. Mark had been elated. That's what Felix had hoped to feel. 

Crashing was unbelievable. He didn't have the energy that he had hoped for - it was energy sure enough, but the kind that made him pace the room and the balcony called him to the edge more than several times, daring him to jump off. Chris had been a long term user at that point, and he described what Felix was feeling as the "Coke Twilight Zone." The plane that brinks on the edge of being acutely aware of the world around you, but also being in a trance-like state where you're neither sleeping, nor are you awake. That was a fair description, and to know that this was a common experience, Felix wrote off the drug for a long, long time. Mark didn't use it anymore, either. 

Learning that Cry did cocaine was not necessarily a surprise. He was rich, and everyone knew that cola was the drug of choice for those that had the money for it. The nosebleeds also spoke for themselves. On Ken's seventeenth birthday, Cry provided an 8 ball of what looked to be the finest, purest blow that Felix had ever seen. Free of charge just for the occasion, Felix thought to dabble again (he and Mark had paid a very shady looking guy for the gram that they had brought to the house party; no wonder he freaked out so badly on it). It was free, so who was he to turn the offer down?

The second time was an entirely different experience altogether, and almost certainly the defining moment that really began what Felix classified as an "addiction." They snorted it, and although Felix's nose was pissing like a horse by the end of it, he felt incredible - better than he had in weeks, as a matter of fact. He felt powerful, as though he could do anything. He was able to understand why people liked the shit so much - the feeling was second to none. His self-confidence totally skyrocketed, and he recalled it being the night that he finally told Marzia that he loved her (she cried, a lot, but she was none the wiser). 

When he felt himself being pulled back down, back to reality, all he wanted was to get high again. Feeling no negative side effects this time around (minus the hypersensitivity every time Ken got too close to him, rubbing against his arm or his abdomen), he was inclined to do more lines, and he had a happy supplier. Mark tried to tell him to lay off, tried to convince Felix that becoming addicted was probably not the best idea, but the blonde didn't listen. The idea of developing an addiction had made him want to laugh at the time. He could control himself. What was so wrong about wanting to feel good once in awhile?

The crashes didn't get any easier to cope with. Sleep was the last thing on his mind when he was coming down. He stayed awake, pacing the house and scratching at his arms, ridden with goosebumps. He always went to school when he was crashing, no matter how much he didn't want to (skipping was absolutely out of the question; Felix had a perfect track record as far as attendance went, and his parents didn't let him miss a day even when he was contagiously ill). The days went by fast, as though he were sleepwalking through the daily grind. He was sure that teachers could tell that he was on  _something,_ but most of the time he was able to chalk it up to sleep deprivation, which was believable enough, being that he was always busy with school and extra curricular stuff. However, those responsibilities were mostly put on the back burner in light of his newest habit. He was still a high achiever (emphasis on high), but his motivation was slowly tanking. Marzia kept him on his feet. 

His biggest downer during this time was Mark, which had been unexpected for the most part. After all, their first time dabbling in crack was with one another - the same could be said for their first time smoking pot, or the first drinking binge. Mark usually never denied a joint or a drink when he was offered, but when Felix tried to show him how  _smoking_ cocaine rather than snorting it was a whole new experience, he wasn't interested. If anything, he was patronizing. 

_"As if,"_ _Mark had said, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he looked at the developing creases in his best friend's face, surely noting that the diamond-eyed blonde was high at that very instant. "I'm an athlete, Felix. I can't afford to jeopardize everything with that shit. I'd advise you follow that path."_

_"Buzzkill," Felix had groaned, but hey - more stash for him. "Cry, Ken, PJ, Chris...everyone is doing it. Have you seen anything bad happen to any of us?"_

_Mark gave him a once over that said it all._

Mark had gone home after that, saying that he had a tournament to leave for in the morning and needed to rest. Wade and Bob had followed him out, but everyone else stayed - which included Mark's doting girlfriend, Amy. Felix was unable to recall how long the two had been together, but it had been a long time, and they were often regarded as the school's power couple - doing everything and going everywhere together. 

Which is why he was surprised when she stayed at the party even when Mark left. And he was even more surprised when she came up to him, straddled his lap, and kissed his neck.

_"Why didn't you go with Mark?" he asked, fringe falling into his glossy eyes. Amy pushed it back carefully with her free hand, her other currently cupping Felix's neck. She was drunk, he could smell it on her breath, but her odd behavior alluded to something more. With the needle track marks lining her bare arms, Felix could take a pretty good guess as to why this was. No wonder she was always wearing jackets and sweaters. She ignored his question, and continued to sloppily kiss his neck, trailing downwards. "Amy. Are you okay?"_

_He was glad that Marzia had declined his invitation to join him at the party. One look at this scene, and two relationships would come crashing down to the ground (three, if you counted her and Amy's friendship). Felix had zero intentions of pushing her off. Old Felix would have been nervous and sweating if Mark's girlfriend came onto him, and probably would have declined any advances right off the bat. Cocaine Felix, his ol' reliable alias, would never dream of it. Mark and Marzia were actually the last people on his mind at the time._

_"Thought I could have more fun with you."_

Sleeping with Amy was pretty high on Felix's list of regrets the second he woke up the next day - in the middle of the day, nonetheless. He checked his phone immediately, mostly expecting an influx of hateful text messages. He didn't get any of those. He had one from Mark, telling him that he was leaving for the tournament, and one from Marzia, telling him to call her when he got up, and that she loved him.

Felix never even looked at Amy after that. The guilt ate him alive. The next time he and Marzia slept together, he couldn't help but to feel remorseful. More than once, he thought about coming clean. He committed to it a few times, did a line of blow for the confidence, and then forgot all about it. The cocaine made him confident and fearless. It made him unapologetic. 

Which is why, he figured, he didn't have a problem kicking Ken out of his life when he was on it. He was sure that when they all walked into the hospital together, his friends could  _tell_ that Felix was high off his ass (he needed to be, he didn't have the confidence for what was about to happen). The sweltering summer heat and the bright hospital lights made his eyes burn, and the nurses gave him strange looks when he squinted or edged away when one his friends touched him. They got led to the room regardless - Mark twitching beside him, but for an entirely different reason.

_"You look like hell," PJ commented, though it was entirely lighthearted. He sat on the edge of Ken's bed, leaning in and giving him a hug. Mark and Cry sat in the chairs, Chris leaned against the wall, and Felix didn't move from the door frame. He stood there, squinting hard against the lights, but tried to focus his eyes on something other than Ken. Seeing the purple ring around his neck made Felix want to turn and walk out of the room. "How are they treating you in here?"_

_"I dunno," was Ken's raspy response, and it made Felix wonder if he'd talk that way forever. He sounded like he was losing his voice. "The nurses are nice enough. The doctors are...not so much. Maybe I'm overthinking but it just...they always act like they have better things to do. Which, ya know, is probably just as well."_

_Felix nodded his agreement. "People are dying, Ken. Of course they do."_

In hindsight, he was probably being harsh in that moment. For a hot moment, he had his regrets - but they dissipated when Ken came out of the closet. Things started to fall quickly into place, and Felix's final decision on the matter was that he didn't want him in his life anymore. Mark told him he was being ridiculous - that Ken was his friend, and being gay didn't have to change any of that. 

In reality, it was less about Ken being gay, and more about the obvious fact that he was in love with Felix. It explained just about everything. Why he always wanted to hang out and spend time together. Why he never wanted to date a girl. Why he never even showed any amounts of even vague interest in other men. He didn't latch to Mark or any of the others the way that he did to Felix.

Felix found it easy to hide behind the  _alternative lifestyles_ facade, at least for the time being. And when it came down to it, it was true that because of his upbringing, he was much less inclined to associate with Ken because of his lifestyle choice. However, it was truly the tip of the iceberg for the other, more deeply rooted, issues. 

For his senior year, Felix had developed a bit of a routine. A line before school. Pick up Marzia. Endure classes, death stares from fellow classmates. Shove an underclassmen (or two) into a locker. Escape to the car for another line. Go to lunch. Deflect Marzia's ever-growing look of concern (she knew something was up, questioned it all the time, but Felix would never admit the truth). Go to the rest of the day's classes. Another line. Drive home. Sometimes go to work (in that case, a line on his break; not like his dumbass boss would ever notice). If he didn't have to work, homework. Another line. Lie in bed for hours before finally managing to drift into a two hour slumber before having to restart the cycle. If it was the weekend, the cycle was pretty much the same, save for a lot more Marzia, and a lot more cocaine.

He had an ideal lifestyle, actually. He felt good. What was so wrong with that?

 


	12. Phil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very...shall I say morally grey? I'm going to go ahead and slide in a warning for content that's pretty much dubious consent - no sex is described at all, nor will it be, but it's very much implied that it's not really wanted, even though consent is given. There's also a mention to self-harm and just overall the relationship depicted is a very unhealthy one. Read with your own caution!

"You said you were going to stop, Dan."

Phil sat with Dan in the brunet's bedroom, holding his hand with one while the other applied antibiotic cream all over the red, angry marks that lined his best friend's torn up wrist. Among the raised, tender skin that held fresh cuts, there was an array of nearly white scars. It hurt, more than words could explain, that Phil didn't know what was going on anymore. That the person he was supposed to be the closest to was keeping something like this from him. Phil had assumed that while Dan was seeing his therapist and regularly taking his anti-psychotics, he was doing a lot better - he always said that he was.

Phil couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that weighed heavily in his stomach even if he tried. He knew a lot of the blame for all of this fell on his own shoulders. He had always felt responsible for Dan, but his other responsibilities sneaked up on him in the worst possible time. He was in a state of perpetual stress and distractions, so all of his relationships kind of fell by the wayside at some stage. Even over the summer he was hard at work, trying to maintain an unpaid internship and a part time job at the same time, which wasn't always successful. He had less time for Dan than what he was used to, but that could be said for all of his other friends, too. He told the brunet to not take it personally, but he knew Dan always would. 

_"If you didn't want to be my friend anymore, you could have at least said so instead of just leaving me hanging, you know. I don't blame you. I wouldn't want to be around me, either."_

More than anything, he felt like a bad friend presently. Over the course of the weekend, he had been admittedly intentionally ignoring his friend. Dan wore him thin and sometimes he really just needed to take a break - it didn't help that he was busy as ever, so when he did have a spare moment, it was really only to eat or shower. Such was his life. Getting Jack's panicked texts about believing that something bad had happened to their friend is what made his really kick his ass into high gear and take initiative over the situation once more. 

He had genuinely been sick, and had been laying in bed with a cold compress when his phone lit up. His mum had advised him to stay in bed, that he was in no condition to be running around, but Dan being potentially hurt was the last straw. Rarely ever did Phil stay home sick from school, so he had been up the walls all day, anyways. He wasn't at all surprised to find the brunet at home, mulling over a journal and skipping work and the mandatory student council meeting that, in Phil's absence, he was meant to be running. Phil couldn't wait for the shit show that would occur the following day. 

"You shouldn't be running around, Phil," was the brunet's eventual response, entirely ignoring was Phil said - which was actually pretty typical. "You sound like hell."

"It's just a cold," Phil protested, but it was promptly followed by a gnarly wet coughing fit. It felt more like a sinus infection than anything else, which left gross stuff leaking down his throat and turning it completely raw. His face, deep in his cheekbones, were cursed with a dull pain, and he was constantly having to blow his nose - and the 102 degree fever really topped it all off. However, the last thing he needed to do right now was indulging Dan and adding to everyone's irrationality about how he shouldn't be up and about. As if he had any time to be laying in bed, playing the sick card. "And stop ignoring me, please."

Dan pulled back from him, deciding to reapply the bandages on his own. He was silent as he did so, wrapping the fabric carefully over the lacerations. Phil watched him with heavily lidded eyes, thick lashes framing his light blue eyes as he twiddled his thumbs anxiously, hesitating to lean over and help. He ultimately decided against it, but offered the medical tape when it was time to secure the bandages, swiping the scissors right from Dan's hands to cut it himself. Some could say he was being a tad overprotective at the moment, but he wanted to eliminate everything he could that could hurt his friend any further. Silently proving his own point to himself, he pocketed the scissors. 

Dan actually laughed, but the look on his face definitely didn't say he was amused. "As if I'm going to cut myself with some rusty scissors. Get real."

Phil's eyebrows furrowed together, and when he spoke, his voice was raw and tortured - more from the sickness than anything else, but he was getting considerably upset. "I wouldn't put it past you, actually. You just cut yourself with your car keys on the dirty bathroom floor less than seven hours ago."

Dan looked at him, but didn't speak. Instead, he curled into himself, his knees pulled tightly to his chest. He grabbed his abandoned notebook, supported it with a textbook, and got back to scrawling whatever he had been when Phil walked in. The older boy sighed and flopped down near the end of the bed, covering his eyes with both hands - cringing when he touched his hands to his forehead, which was burning up. He knew that any sort of physical activity probably wasn't doing his sickness any favors, but he wasn't about to just leave Dan to his own devices. 

He learned from his mistake not an hour earlier. 

For awhile, the two sat in silence, leaving Phil to his own confusing thoughts. He didn't know how to be a better friend. He had this discussion with Jack several times in the past, which always led to them coming to same conclusion - Phil did what he could. That was never enough. He had a hard time accepting that nothing he ever did would be enough to help Dan out of whatever funk he was in. He knew he couldn't fix him, couldn't fix his mental illness, but he felt genuinely awful about it. Sometimes it seemed as though Dan only relied on him, like he thought Phil had all the answers in the world - and no matter how much he wished that were the case, it just wasn't. He had so few answers that it was actually infuriating. 

Phil had always liked to think that he had things under control. He didn't get to where he was in life by letting petty things and drama affect his entire being. He ran student council and the school's LGBT club with an iron fist, after all. He was able to work, do his internship, and balance school mostly without a sweat most days. Sure it left plenty to be desired as far as his social life went, but beyond that, those activities brought some much need stability to his otherwise off-balanced life. Truly, he didn't have the time to get wrapped up in all the drama that went on in the lives of his friends. Yet, no matter what he did, he was always dragged back into drama of some variety - be it Jack's, or be it Dan's, it didn't matter. It was drama all the same and Phil was so tired of putting up with it. No one was there for him when he was stressed out, or hacking up a lung, or otherwise in less than stellar shape. 

He had to be one-hundred percent all the time - if not for school, if not for his extra-curriculars, for everyone else in his life that depended on him to be the best Phil he could be. He was wondering if that Phil even existed anymore, honestly. 

Finally, Phil gathered up the courage to scoot closer to Dan, and pressed his face up against the younger boy's bent leg. Dan looked up from his journal, his eyebrow cocked in inquisition, though it was clear he had no intentions on questioning Phil's actions.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Phil asked quietly, knowing full well the implication of his words. They had been in this position a lot, and more often than not, it ended up in a lot of kissing and a lot of cuddles. Human companionship is what Dan craved when he was in one of his moods, and most of the time, Phil was okay with providing this. Mostly okay with it. "I just want you to feel better."

Dan leaned over and placed his journal on his bedside table, and unfolded his legs, forcing Phil to take on a new position. He settled for joining Dan up by the pillows, gingerly wrapping his arm around the slightly taller boy's shoulders. He rested his head carefully on Dan's shoulder, silently waiting for an answer as his friend wrapped his arm around Phil's waist, pulling him in close.

"Anything?" Dan murmured, and Phil avoided looking him in the eye as he nodded his head. Part of him was convinced that Dan somehow knew when he was vulnerable. "I'm not going to kiss you because you're sick and I can't afford to be." He paused, looking a little apprehensive, if only for a moment. "Have sex with me."

Sex was the one step that they had yet to take with one another, if only because Phil was always one to shy away from that level of physical and emotional commitment. He had never been willing to give himself to Dan in that way. He couldn't handle giving himself to a person in that way, when there was the potential of being left. Phil wouldn't say that he had abandonment issues, not necessarily, but he wanted his first time to be with someone who could give to him everything that he needed. Dan wasn't that person. He cared for Dan a great deal, but the brunet was in no condition to be taking care of another person, when he could hardly even take care of himself. 

"Okay," he said finally, his voice weaker than what he'd like. He knew the sickness was no longer to blame. 


	13. Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this chapter is necessarily my best work, but I wanted to get it out there because I want to get started on the next one, which is where actually important stuff will happen. This one was just a stepping stone to what needs to be said. 
> 
> I changed up the summary for this fic, as the keen eyes out there may or may not have noticed. I wanted to change up the summary so it wasn't focused solely on the septiplier storyline, but I feel it may have gotten a little bit lengthy. Thoughts?
> 
> Thanks for reading guys! As always, it's very appreciated! :)

"I still can't believe Mark shook you down for my phone number."

"Yeah, well, aren't you glad he did?"

"Of course I am. I was worried about Dan. I feel bad for shrugging him off all weekend but...honestly, after he kissed me, I was so confused. I used to, you know, have a bit of a crush on him...but after walking in on him and Phil kissing, I don't know what to think anymore. It feels wrong to like him. It feels like I'm...intruding on something. I know that sounds dumb."

"No, not at all. Sounds reasonable. Feelings are a fucked up thing. Glad I hardly have any."

Instances like these made Jack glad that he had Cry in his life again. It got hard having to accept that they would probably never be anything more than friends, but it was better than not having him in his life at all. The brunet gave him surprisingly good advice, and didn't seem uncomfortable at all whenever Jack mentioned something like this. A lot of Cry's old friends were the type who would laugh about this sort of thing, which was fucked up, Jack thought. Nothing about the situation was any degree of funny to him. 

Cry had developed a habit of walking most places with Jack, as well. So far, the Irishman had dealt with a very insignificant amount of teasing from his fellow classmates, which was strange. He believed that the good majority of that had to do with Cry - he had been very popular, he was on the football team, so people seeing him walk with Jack typically made them back down from making any sort of comment. He was incredibly thankful for that, but being around Cry just made it that much more difficult to get over him. 

Not that he  _wanted_ to get over him entirely. He just wanted to stop lusting over him, because it was honestly very confusing. Rarely was he so sexually attracted to other people the way that he was to Cry, and while it could be exhilarating, it was also frustrating to know nothing could ever come from any of these stupid thoughts. Just because he desired to climb Cry like a tree didn't necessarily mean that he could, so all in all, it was pointless to think about.

Teenage hormones were a bitch when you didn't anything other than your hand and a few topless pictures to satisfy them. Even then, they always came back. In any such case, it felt wrong to think about sex when the world was figuratively about to end. Jack's entire existence was a shit storm, and all he was able to think about was how much he just wanted some damn action. 

"I really wish you had the same lunch as we did," Jack complained as they reached the cafeteria's entrance - standing as far off to the side as possible to avoid the crowds of people. Cry nodded his head shortly in agreement - he didn't want to go off to his physics class anymore than Jack didn't want him to go, surely. "You should hang out with us at some stage, though. In spite of all their drama, Dan and Phil are actually really good company."

"I'm sure they are," Cry smiled, shifting his backpack's weight to his other shoulder. Over the sound of the all the conversing around them, music began to fill the hallways. The school had implemented that as a warning system, so students would know, two minutes in advance, when the next bell was to ring. Cry sighed, but still maintained his smile - the one that inspired the majority of the nasty thoughts, Jack was certain. "Hey, if you want to set something up, just let me know. I'd be happy to spend some more time with you."

With that, he turned around and disappeared into the crowd of people, briskly walking towards the stairwell. Jack was glad that Cry wasn't there to witness the face-splitting smile that was currently on his face. Feeling light and airy, he made his way through the cafeteria, shouldering past people to get to the back corner, where he and his friends normally sat. Sure enough, Phil was already sat down, head bent over an open textbook - though he seemed to just be staring at it rather than actually studying. 

"Hey, man," Jack greeted as he took the seat across from the taller boy, who didn't so much as look up. Jack knew that when he was studying, he could get into it, so he tried not to take it personally. He took out his lunch and immediately began to dig in as he spoke. "Dan's not coming today?"

Phil finally looked up at the mention of the brunet's name, though there was a look of confusion that was evident in his eyes. He had a package of tissues on the table beside his book, and his eye bags made it look like he hadn't slept in days - which surely wasn't true, as he was telling Jack the other day that he was much more tired than normal and had spent his weekend sleeping. Jack knew Phil, and knew that since he skipped school, the sickness was definitely nothing small. Most of the time Phil had to be on death's door to miss a day. 

He certainly looked like he was, the more Jack examined him. 

"No," Phil finally answered, capping his highlighter and closing his book with a heavy sigh. Jack didn't have to know about the sickness to realize that Phil was exhausted - it was written all over his face. "He's not. He wants to take the day off and...recuperate, I guess."

Jack nodded his understanding, but leaned over, gently placing one of his hands on top of Phil's. "That's understandable, but I'm thinking that maybe you should as well. No offense but...you look like shit."

"I feel like shit," Phil admitted, withdrawing his hand and leaning over, burying his face into the hard table. Jack felt bad seeing his friend like this - Phil never got sick besides the occasional sniffle, but he looked downright miserable. "I'm tired, I have a terrible headache, my neck is stiff, my entire body is sore...if I didn't have so much shit to do I'd already be in bed. I missed so much yesterday and I can't afford to miss anymore."

Jack leaned over the table to place a hand on his friend's shoulder. In doing so, however, he very lightly brushed Phil's neck with his thumb, and nearly recoiled at the heat. 

"Well, I can certainly tell that you have a fever."

"I know I do. It was 102 yesterday, 103 today."

Jack's mouth fell open, almost comically so. "And your mom still hasn't taken you to the doctor? Phil, I'm certain that whatever's going on with your health is  _much_ more important than school."

"My mom doesn't know that I'm ill," Phil admitted bleakly, finally lifting his head and looking at his friend, looking as though he were on the verge of his tears. Phil had always been the stable one in their friend group, and to see him nearly moved to tears was unprecedented. "I mean, obviously she does, but she doesn't know that it's like this. I just told her that I wasn't feeling good and she let me stay home. I took my own temperature."

"I think it would have done you well to tell her," Jack stated, the frown not leaving his face. Phil was never good at taking care of himself - too focused on everything else going on around him. How anyone could think more of school than of their own damn health was far beyond Jack - he was such a hypochondriac that he would have been at the doctor the day he started to feel ill, to get it under control at the very least. "You saw Dan last night, did you not? I'm sure he told you to go to the doctor, too."

Phil tensed noticeably, his jaw clenching. "He did. But I spent the night at his house, and then obviously had to come here today. Jack, I really don't have time to go to the damn doctor."

"Of course you do. This is your  _health_ we're talking about here," Jack was insistent, growing increasingly frustrated. "What if you got Dan sick, too? With a fever like that you could be getting everyone in the school sick."

"Dan wouldn't even kiss me, so I doubt it," Phil said, sadness flashing in his eyes if only for a moment. Jack raised an eyebrow at him. "I know sickness can be spread through other means as well, but Dan's immune system is great. He was just fine when I left him this morning. Better than fine. My sickness knocked me on my ass all at once."

"As you've said. And as I have said, sudden onset illness aren't something you should fuck around with. Go to the doctor. Don't you at least want a little peace of mind?"

"It wouldn't  _be_ peace of mind, as I'd still be incredibly aware of everything that I'm missing out on here. Plus, Dan's...in a bad place. He made me promise to come visit him right after school, and I intend to."

Jack groaned, leaning back in his chair enough to nearly tip it over, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Phil, think about  _yourself_ right now. School can wait, and so can Dan. You  _just_ said he was fine. You spent the entire night with him. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that we slept together."

Jack's chair  _did_ start to tip over, then, but he was quick to regain his composure and keep himself upright. "Phil, are you  _kidding_ me?"

"I'm dwelling enough in my own head right now, so forgive me if I don't want a lecture," Phil said flatly, his cheeks turning redder - they were already slightly pink, presumably because of the fever, but now they were bordering on red. "I don't know why we did it, okay, so don't even ask. He was really upset, and all I wanted was to be there for him. That was the only way I could be."

"The  _only_ way?" Jack questioned, but instantly tried to rid himself of the judgmental tone. His intention was not to judge his friend for the sex - more than anything, he was just concerned. "Sex can be dangerous, man. It can lead to complications."

"We used a condom. We were being safe."

"I meant, like, the emotional stuff. And just...feeling pressured really isn't a good reason to do that, you know? I'm not trying to be a dick. I'm just...trying to look out for you."

"Sex talk is a little rich from you, all things considered," Phil deadpanned, but quickly shook his head to himself before Jack could even register the implications of what he had said. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I'm sorry. I'm so confused right now. I'm exhausted, and I really just want to go home. I can't handle school right now."

Jack decided to ignore Phil's comment, and drop the conversation all together. "I can take you to the nurse if you want. You look like you're going to pass out just sitting here, man."

Phil sighed deeply, before finally giving in. "Can it please wait until the end of the day? The council meeting from yesterday got rescheduled for sixth period and I can't miss it this time around. Dan obviously couldn't go yesterday."

Jack nodded carefully, his eyes softening significantly. "Of course, man. Things'll work out, okay?"

In saying that, he couldn't be sure. He was confused - and if  _he_ was confused, he couldn't imagine how Phil was feeling. He knew it wasn't his place to make all of Phil's decisions for him, but his actions were certainly not ill-intended. He wanted the best for his friends, even though he sometimes couldn't understand the decisions they made - regarding themselves, their physical health, their actions towards one another. He knew that if Dan and Phil had kept their relationship strictly platonic, they wouldn't have their current dilemmas. 

He was certain Phil knew that, too. 

"I'm starting to doubt that," Phil sighed out. Jack's face fell. "I don't know when my life became this dramatic."

Jack had an answer, though he doubted Phil wanted to hear it. "It's high school, Phil. It's complicated. People, emotions...it's all complicated. It's got nothing to do with you personally."

Phil nodded his head, but his eyes locked suddenly on something behind Jack, his eyes lighting up if only for a moment. Jack arched an eyebrow before turning around in his seat, seeing Mark walking past their table, talking to a very bleak looking Ken Morrison. Jack had been sure that he wasn't supposed to be leaving the hospital quite yet - so Cry had told him, at least. He never learned why he had been hospitalized in the first place, never thought it was his place to ask, but Ken didn't look injured. 

He also wasn't with Felix, which was strange. When Ken had been in school during the past few years, he and Felix had been attached at the hip. Cry and mentioned that himself and Felix were no longer friends due to Ken's situation, but had never mentioned anything about Ken's friendship with the blond. Maybe people were starting to come to their senses. 

"Hey, Mark," Phil suddenly called out, and Jack frowned when the red-haired boy stopped walking, turning to look at Phil with inquisition. Mark had been comparatively pleasant the previous day due to the Dan ordeal versus how he had acted in years past, but Jack still expected the worst with him around. He didn't think people like Mark, or people like Felix, could change from their old ways. He had no reason to believe they could. "Thanks for the tip about Dan. He's okay now."

Okay was a stretch, Jack thought. Still, Mark smiled - and, for a brief second, Jack allowed himself to think that his smile was nice. It was certainly a better look on him than his semi-permanent scowl. It was probably the first time he recognized Mark as being any degree of handsome. He was a good enough looking person, but his personality left a lot to be desired. 

"I'm glad to hear it," said Mark, whereas Ken just looked uncomfortable, lingering behind him awfully close. Jack had never thought the two were all that close. "See you around, guys."

As the two strolled away, towards the doors at the back of the cafeteria that led onto the courtyard, Jack turned to Phil - utter confusion written all over his face in light of all the exchanged pleasantries. 

"...What the actual  _fuck_ was that?"


	14. Mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gahhhhh you guys I'm so sorry about my terrible updating. If you follow any of my other stories you'll know that I'm not particularly good about updating anything, but that's been especially true lately. I wasn't feeling anything for awhile there, but I'm slowly easing back into it and hopefully this comeback will be a great one. Thanks to those being patient with me. We're still in for the long haul, friends!

"Aren't you at the wrong table?"

Mark dug his teeth hard into his lower lip, placing a hand low on Ken's back and pushing him closer to the table. The brunette looked at him, visibly upset and trying to ignore the daggers that Felix was currently shooting at him. Understandably, he had been apprehensive about his return for this very reason. It wasn't any sort of surprise to Mark, either, that Felix would have his comments to make. He just hoped that the blond could get his kicks in fast and then just let it go - but knowing Felix, it could go on for awhile. 

Sitting by his side, Marzia scowled at her boyfriend before turning to Ken, plastering on a broad smile. "Hey, you. It's good to see you back. You're looking really great."

Ken managed to smile as, with a little more prodding, he finally sat down - clear across the table from Felix, both seats next to him empty. Mark took the seat to his left, feeling ice coat his stomach as he did so. Though he wasn't necessarily caring for Felix's attitude, and the dirty look on his face, he was at least happy that Marzia was being pleasant - not that he thought she wouldn't be; she was always kinder than Felix. It was a wonder how the two had stayed together this long, how Marzia was able to put up with him most of the time. 

"You are, too," Ken replied, voice wavering. Mark was quickly becoming discouraged about his hopes that things could go back to normal. It was incredibly obvious that Ken was totally uncomfortable, which was fair enough. The way that Felix was looking at him - arms crossed over chest, narrowed eyes - would unsettle anyone. "Not that that's anything new, of course."

Marzia grinned brightly at him, just as PJ and Chris approached the table, attached at the hip as per normal. PJ was all smiles as he flopped down at Ken's right, setting his tray down and immediately leaning in for a hug. PJ had been great when Ken was in the hospital, so it was no real surprise that he was being hospitable, but Mark was grateful for it nonetheless. He hoped that if everyone else could be friendly, it might be easier to disregard Felix. At best, it was wishful thinking. 

He had to hand it to PJ, though - he was really maturing. Mark knew how scary of a situation this had been for everyone involved, and PJ was certainly handling it much better than some of their counterparts (namely Felix). He had never been the understanding type before, apathetic was an understatement. 

"I didn't think they were letting you out yet," Chris remarked as PJ and Ken broke apart. Mark shot him a warning look, his eyes narrowing into slits. Ken looked at him inquisitively, eyebrows furrowing together. Chris backpedaled. "I mean...last I'd heard, you weren't getting out for a few weeks or so..."

Ken turned his gaze to Mark, who offered a sheepish smile. "I...wanted to keep these guys updated. You know."

"Everyone except me, evidently," said Felix, voice hard. The glare in his eyes was getting harder and harder to ignore.

"You never asked," Mark shot back quickly. "If anything, I seem to recall you not wanting to talk about it at all." Felix rolled his eyes, and Mark quickly made the executive decision to change the topic. He wanted to ease Ken back into the school setting, make things easier, and they were already off to a bad start. Ken looked ready to get up and bolt. "Listen, guys, I'm sure the last thing we need to be talking about is the hospital right now, alright?"

"Alright, man, respect," PJ commented. Felix got up from the table with a loud huff, quick enough to knock his chair over, startling everyone. He swung his bag over his shoulder, but abandoned his lunch as he strode away from the table, pace quick. Marzia bit into her lip, sending an apologetic glance Ken's away before also standing up, grabbing her own bag before briskly chasing after her boyfriend. Ken was noticeably unnerved, and sunk down in his chair, a disgruntled look crossing his features. PJ extended a hand towards him. "Hey, man, don't even give him the time of day right now. I think he's just...confused. About everything."

"Nothing about it is confusing," Ken replied bluntly. "I knew this was a mistake."

Mark bristled. "Don't. We're all here for you, okay? It doesn't matter what Felix thinks about it. I told you I have your back, and I meant it."

"Us too," Chris chimed in, which was a pleasant surprise. Out of everyone in the group, Chris was arguably the most detached. He suffered a lot from a lot of confusing mental stuff - which was totally different from Ken's, but real and scary nonetheless. He claimed not to experience emotions the way normal people did - sometimes had to wonder if he had any at all. However, he dispelled a lot of that and downplayed it. He didn't think it was of importance, and therefore never discussed it with his friend group. "He's a jackass. Just let him sulk. He'll get over it."

Ken looked like he had plenty on his mind, plenty to say, but he kept his mouth shut for the duration of the hour. Felix and Marzia never did return to the table, and Mark debated messaging one of them, but ultimately decided against it. He knew that he had to let Felix cool down, and wished Marzia could take that hint, too. She tended to cling to the blond when it was obvious he didn't want that. Mark knew she had no ill-intentions, but Felix often referred to her as a static clinger. 

Certainly not for the first time that day (or even hour), Mark wondered why the two were still together in the first place.

"How is Felix?" Ken asked, totally out of nowhere, as the two left the courtyard together towards the end of the lunch period. Mark thought it might be good for Ken to get some fresh air before they were subjected to long afternoon classes. The redhead arched an eyebrow. "Like, actually. How is he doing?"

Mark chose his words as carefully as he could. "...I don't see why that's relevant right now, bud. I think he's the last person you need to be concerned about right now."

"Okay, but I'm still concerned," Ken argued. He stopped walking, pulling Mark down to sit next to him on a bench situated near the greenhouse. He was appearing more and more distraught with each passing moment. Mark wished he had the words to say that could make him feel better, but when he searched the depths of his brain, he still came up with nothing. "The way he's acting...it's really familiar and it's making me really nervous. Cold, uncaring...he never used to be like that. Not before..."

Even when Mark tried, he couldn't remember the period of time that existed before Ken's suicide attempt. It felt very distant, like it may not have even happened at all. He knew better, of course, but it was hard to remember anything about that time. Especially the things regarding Felix's mannerisms. The current version of the blond that existed in Mark's head was the one who turned on his friends just for being gay. The one who, in spite of being a deeply religious person, turned his back on people when they needed him the most. 

It hurt Mark to know that he didn't even  _really_ know the person he claimed was his best friend.

He didn't say any of that. He couldn't. "...I guess I haven't been really thinking about it," was his ultimate answer, because really, he hadn't been. Ken had been his primary focus for the past few months. "Can you...elaborate, maybe?"

"I'm worried that he might...you know, hurt himself," Ken said, voice smaller than ever. Mark couldn't help but to snort. "Please don't laugh, Mark. It's not funny. I'm so worried about him. A lot of people in the hospital, in group therapy...they experienced a lot of the same shit that he's displaying right now. Maybe it's a serious stretch but...I really think we need to take it seriously."

"I don't think he'd hurt himself," Mark replied, seriously enough. However, he thought, he didn't necessarily expect Ken to hurt himself, either. "I'm sorry for laughing, but Felix has a lot going for him right now. I don't know that he'd throw any of that away so easily. He'd talk if he wanted to talk."

Ken twiddled his thumbs, his leg bouncing in a rhythmic pattern. "I don't know that he would, Mark. Please just...promise me to at least  _try_ and keep an eye on him. I'd be doing it myself if he wanted anything to do with me."

Mark couldn't fathom why in the world Ken cared so greatly for this person who had essentially kicked him to the damn curb, but it was the absolute last thing he wanted to remark on at the moment. He didn't claim to understand the complex mechanisms of Ken's mind. He knew that if he were in the brunet's shoes, Felix would be the last person he'd be even remotely concerned about it. Maybe it spoke volumes about Ken's character, or maybe it was just bad judgement. Mark wasn't sure, and couldn't  _be_ sure, so he neglected to comment on any of it.

"Just give him some time to come around," Mark finally spoke, though he couldn't deny the uncertainty in his own voice. "I'm sure he will eventually. And I'm sure he was just being weird because, you know...he's probably really confused right now. Probably rightfully so, yeah?" He paused to study Ken's face before reluctantly adding, "If it'll make you feel better, I can keep an eye on him. He doesn't like feeling smothered, though, so don't be too surprised if I can't crack him."

If only for a split moment, the brunet seemed appeased. He gave Mark a feeble smile before getting to his feet, beginning the trek back indoors. 

Mark wasn't feeling anywhere near as confident as he had been before. 


	15. Dan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't fret, friends. An explanation will surely be given in chapters to come. Updated the tags to be a little more suiting for the chapters that will follow this story line. I did as much as I could without giving too much away!
> 
> Happy reading! x

When Dan entered the student council room just as the bell rang, signaling the beginning of sixth hour, he couldn't help but to smile when his eyes landed on the familiar mop of dyed black hair that he had been searching for. The very reason he had managed to pull himself out of bed for this meeting in the first place. He felt bad, lazing about in bed whilst he knew the meeting would be going on. He was still vice president, after all. He had settled for heading to school just long enough to attend the meeting, and then head back home - with Phil in tow, he hoped. With how bad the older boy had been feeling over the course of the weekend, Dan doubted it would take much convincing. He didn't necessarily want to be alone, and especially after they had just had sex. The evening had left Dan feeling warm and fuzzy all over, while his desire to be around Phil was consistently increasing. If it meant enduring an hour long meeting, so be it - it was better than the Geography class they would both be in, otherwise. 

Dan hadn't been a virgin prior to having sex with Phil, but something about their entire situation had created a roaring fire deep in his stomach. He was hardly equipped to understand the emotions that he was feeling, but what he did know was that he hadn't felt quite this good in a  _long_ time. Something about finally taking this leap in their otherwise casual relationship made it feel all that less casual, and Dan was living for it. He had never felt this close to Phil, and while it was a little intense, it was also so new and exhilarating. No matter how much Dan had initially wanted to brood in bed and feel sorry for himself, he didn't have it in him at the moment - how could that be even remotely close to a bad thing?

He sneaked up on Phil, whose back was turned towards the whiteboard, and wrapped his arms tight around his waist - resting his chin on the shorter boy's shoulder. "Hey there, stranger."

Phil jumped nearly a foot in the air at the sudden contact, and whipped around with enough force to unintentionally knock Dan away from him. Dan started to chuckle, amused that he had startled him to that degree, but the grim look on Phil's face made all the laughter get stuck in his throat. He looked undeniably worse than he had just the previous day, and while Dan knew that he was sick, and had been, it was starting to become alarming. Phil was always as white as a damn bed sheet, but this was somehow different. His skin was chalky and lacked its' life. His eyes were heavy, weighed down by the appearance of deeply set circles, in hasty hues of purple and yellow that nearly resembled black eyes. He looked completely and utterly exhausted, which was  _not_ a good look on him.

"Jesus," Dan breathed, no longer even vaguely amused. He took a step back to look Phil over properly - worry setting in even deeper when he noted his appearance. Phil was never the type to adorn hoodies and sweats to school, and he certainly was never one to forsake his contacts for glasses, but here he was. He looked like he just rolled out of bed. "Phil, you look _horrendous_."

Phil's lips pursed, and his eyes narrowed into slits. "You always know how to flatter me, Dan," was his bristly reply, which again, was concerning. Phil seemed to be seeping unprecedented bitterness. "What are you even doing here? You told me you were skipping today."

"I wanted to see you," Dan said, trying to momentarily ignore his friend's sour attitude. He wanted to chalk it all up to him being ill, but somehow that didn't feel right. Something about Phil seemed off, though Dan couldn't quite put a finger on it. He wasn't sure how much he even wanted to think about it. "After last night it...felt weird to be away. Sorry if I scared you. You seem a little...tense."

Phil exhaled a long, shaky breath - and with that, his body seemed to loosen up some. When he spoke, he was far less testy. "I _am_ tense. How could I not be? I'm drowning in shit to do, and I feel even worse than I did yesterday. Don't even ask how that's possible, because I certainly don't know."

"Maybe you should think about heading home. Or to a doctor," Dan suggested bleakly, as the room began to fill, council members taking their respective seats. Dan thought that whatever Phil was suffering from had to be some sort of virus, maybe the flu, but it wasn't seeming to want to relent. He wasn't feeling overwhelmingly concerned about Phil's physical state, though - if anything, he was more worried that his sickness would contribute to the deterioration of his mental health, seeing as it was no secret that he was burning himself out. Phil snorted, which was expected. "Babe, come on. You're not Superman, here. You're human, and you could really use some rest. I can tell you aren't well."

"I'm  _not_ well," Phil agreed, but his voice was practically dripping ice once again. Dan didn't understand why he was so bitter, or what exactly had gotten into him, but he didn't like it one bit. It was beginning to make him feel like Phil was intentionally directing his anger at him specifically. "But I'm not going to keep putting all my work off for some stupid sickness. It's not who I am, and  _I_ am not comfortable putting off what I need to do. By the way, had you held this meeting for me yesterday, like you said you would, I _could_ be at home right now."

He made a move to turn back to what he was doing, but there was no way in  _hell_ Dan was letting that one slide. Unconcerned with who might be watching them, he grabbed Phil's upper bicep, and forced him to look back at him - his grip firm and unrelenting. Phil tried to wrestle his arm back, but it was clear that there was no fight or energy in his body that would allow him to accomplish his feat.

"What is wrong with you?" Dan asked lowly, still not loosening his grip even when Phil's eyes were becoming glassy. "I mean, seriously. We had a perfect night, and now you're just being rude and irritable. I know you're sick, but that's not really an excuse to act like an ass. What's your deal?"

"My  _deal_ is that I have ten million things going on, and when _one_ thing goes wrong, I get set back so damn far. I bend over backwards for you, and you can't do this one thing for me. And it doesn't feel like sick anymore. It feels like I'm on the verge of passing out, I don't want to be here, and my body is fucking  _crying_ for a break right now. But there are so many damn people counting on me, that I just can't have that. The one thing I ask for, hindered because of what everyone else wants of me. You don't think that's the least bit fucked up?"

The outburst was enough for Dan to let go, that and the sudden knowledge that the room was full, and everyone was waiting to start. Dan hadn't expected everything to come flowing out like that, had definitely not expected all of the cursing (swearing was _not_ something that Phil did), and it was enough to make his chest tighten up. For one brief, fleeting moment, he felt his world come tumbling down around him. He was stuck in an awkward grey area wherein he was uncertain of which emotion was more prevalent - feeling as though he had let Phil down, and the feeling of guilt that turned into a block of lead in the very pit of his stomach. 

"Are you mad at me?" Dan finally murmured, trying to keep his voice low, uncomfortably self-aware. He didn't like to think that everyone in the room could (probably) hear their dispute. Phil's eyes were cloudy, but Dan could tell he was confused. "I...I'm sorry if I upset you in some way. I didn't mean to flake out like that. I was having a really hard time, and I know you were, too, but..."

Phil sighed before rubbing his eyes, hard, with his hands. "No. I don't know. Not about any of that. I know you were hurting. It's just been so difficult lately. Maybe I'm in over my head."

"You're great," Dan said, instantaneously. There was still nausea burning deep in his chest, threatening to rise, but he tried his hardest to choke back the feeling of needing to puke. He had every desire to lean in and kiss Phil everywhere, assure him that things would end up being okay. They had to be. Under everyone's scrutiny (including but not limited to the hard gazes of Tyler Scheid and Ethan Nestor) it simply wasn't an option. He settled for using his words, instead - which was never an easy thing for him. "I can come with you to the doctor after this, if you want. And maybe we could talk a little more, if that would help you."

Phil looked at him, eyes heavily lidded. He was silent for a moment, but calmly nodded his head. He reached out, as if to touch Dan, but he withdrew - a motion that made the brunet's heart throb audibly in his chest. If Phil noticed the somber expression on his face, he didn't say anything about it. Dan took his seat, settled next to Marzia Bisognin, this year's social coordinator, and waited. 

"Okay, guys," Phil started, his voice heavy - almost speaking with a sigh. Dan hadn't really taken into account just how exhausted he seemed until now, but it was becoming disturbingly real. Phil never carried himself in such a manner as this. "First of all, thank you for your patience and flexibility with the meeting. It means a lot that you all have been dedicated thus far to making this year the best we've ever had."

Dan was able to tune out most of what was being said. He knew he should be listening, being attentive, but he was just unable to do so at the moment. All he was able to focus on was Phil, who seemed to be wavering more and more as the time progressed. He seemed out of it, heavy - exhausted. Dan didn't like to see him in any sort of anguish, and this especially was hard. Phil just didn't seem to be himself, and it all seemed to extend beyond something as simple as the flu. Dan didn't want to think there was something seriously wrong, but he had nothing else to think. 

Especially when, in the middle of a sentence about the upcoming Homecoming dance, Phil just stopped talking. That was when Dan finally lifted his head, deciding that if there was any time he should probably pay attention, it was now. Phil's eyes were tracking the room, but there was nothing coming from his parted lips. His eyes were completely empty - looking around, but not settling on any one thing. People at the table were looking at him, and looking between one another, clearly confused. 

"Uh, as I was saying..." Phil finally murmured, taking a wobbly step towards the table and placing a hand on it, as though to steady himself. Dan bit down hard into his lip, briefly pondering if he should get up at help him - or, at the very least, vocalize his concern. "It's, um, imperative...that we..."

He cut himself off once more, seemingly out of breath. Dan slowly got to his feet, but surprisingly enough, Marzia was the one who spoke up. "Phil...are you okay?"

Before Dan could even think to reach out and catch him, Phil's knees buckled - and he hit the floor hard, completely unconscious. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Make It Stop by Rise Against.
> 
> Chapters that could include any graphic content will be stated beforehand in the notes. This story isn't set anywhere in particular - just some town in California, really. And for the sake of the story, everyone lives in America.
> 
> Feedback of any kind is appreciated!


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